Undead
by Accio-Underwear
Summary: Rekindling a dead and gone relationship is hard. K/K & Style
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer – I do not own South Park._

* * *

"I'm starving," Nineteen year old Kenny McCormick murmured into Kyle Broflovski's bare neck before lightly kissing the soft skin.

Kyle gave a soft and pleased sigh, his hand buried in Kenny's blonde hair as he happily squirmed under his lover's light and teasing touches, "Yeah, we didn't really think of that when we decided to stay in bed all day." He replied, shivering as fingers lightly trailed down his side.

"Well come on," Kenny started, his voice hushed as to not ruin the mood, "Three year anniversary. It's just begging for a day of each other's company." He gave a small sigh and pushed away from his lover, sitting up and scratching his bed and sex influenced hair. "I'll go hit City Wok. What do you want?" Kyle moved to sit up as well but Kenny gently shoved him back down, "You stay in bed….and naked. I like you this way and once we eat, I intend on immediately burning off the calories."

Kyle grinned and stretched out on their large bed. "City Chicken, please."

They'd been living with each other for half of the three years they'd been together and managing to do quite nicely. Kenny was working a job at the local bioengineering labs as security, though Kyle often wondered if his boyfriend was telling the truth when it came to his occupation but he never asked since Kenny was happy to be able to make a surprising amount each payday. Kyle worked full time at South Park's small paper. Eric Cartman often commented that it was well suited for the redhead to be an accountant since 'Jews were so good with making sure their money was in order'. When he wasn't working, he was taking online courses so he wouldn't be stuck at such a dead end job.

Kenny grinned, kissing Kyle chastely before standing up and pulling on whatever clothes didn't smell terrible from the laundry hamper. Ignoring Kyle's mildly disgusted look, he gave the naked redhead a salute, "I'll be right back, lover." He stated before stepping out of their bedroom and sliding down their hallway on his socks. He shoved his feet into his shoes and grabbed his keys. With a blissful smile, Kenny walked out of the complex and into the streets of South Park.

Three years. It had been three years he and Kyle, embarrassed and awkward teenagers, admitted that there were more evolved feelings than just those of friendship. His parents didn't give a flying fuck about who he was with, just as long as he was happy and safe. Kyle's parents weren't as accepting at first, but adjusted over time. Their siblings treated their brother's boyfriend like a brother and everything was just perfect.

Of course, they had their bumps along the road. Kyle didn't know he wasn't a security guard but in fact a voluntary test subject. He started as a security guard, that was true, but after the first time he died and came back, the higher ups and scientists offered him a six digit salary, a new car, and a house. Knowing full well that Kyle wouldn't agree to him taking such a job, Kenny declined the house and car and arranged for them to give him only a certain amount on one check and the rest to be deposited into a secret account. He was going to tell Kyle eventually. Just in the form of a paid off college tuition, a house, a car, and completely new furniture. And maybe a trip to Europe.

Either that or he was going to actually die for a period longer than six months, as his will stated, and then Kyle got that money.

It was a win-win situation, really.

Strolling into the nearest corner store, Kenny grabbed a bottle of wine, whipped cream and chocolate syrup. He paid quickly enough, eager to get Kyle and his lunch so he could get home and try out their whipped cream and syrup. He was pretty sure the redhead would enjoy the idea as well.

He practically jogged over to City Wok, groaning at the small line that had formed. Fifteen minutes felt like forever and he finally ordered his City Beef and Kyle's City Chicken, slapping a twenty on the counter and shouting 'Keep the change' as he practically flew out of the crappy restaurant.

"Hey, Kenny!"

Rushing down the sidewalk, he looked to the left when he heard someone call his name. Butters was waving at him from across the street happily and, still walking he raised his hand to wave back. He didn't realize that he'd hit the end of the curb, stumbling off the sidewalk, his bags spilling everywhere. Butters screamed at him, and Kenny looked at him in mild confusion before turned toward the blaring horn of the speeding semi that was roaring towards him.

God, his anniversary was fucked.


	2. Blood, Porn, and Star Wars

_Disclaimer – I do not own South Park._

* * *

A wave of panic hit him as he scratched at the cheap plywood lid of the small box he was in. He knew he was in a coffin. His father made them out of cheap thin wood and kept dozens in the garage for whenever Kenny's body was especially gruesome. The wood cracked and splintered under his frantic beating, dirt trickled in and on his face. Fighting against the wood and dirt, he forced the hole bigger and dug himself out.

He'd died thousands of times. But he never woke up inside the coffin.

Idly finding it strange that he wasn't panting as he tried to recollect his thoughts on the wet grass of the graveyard, Kenny McCormick stood up warily. He noted it was night and the moon was what his mother called a blood moon. It seemed larger than usual, full and a blaring orange color.

A slight smile widened as he was filled with hope and he ran, stumbling ever-so-slightly into town. If he was lucky, he'd only been dead a few hours and he could still be home in time to finish up his and Kyle's amazing day of sex. He got odd looks from pedestrians at first and then registered looks of fear. He rolled his eyes, as if they'd never seen him come back to life before. This town will always be full of idiots. Running to the apartment complex, he quickly located their building and climbed the two flights of stairs, wincing at how stiff his legs felt.

Kenny patted down his pockets, frowning when he couldn't find his keys and rolled his eyes. Kyle probably claimed them so he wouldn't be buried with them. Duh. He knocked on their door loudly as a giddy feeling overcame him. "Kyle! Open up! It's me!" He called through the door. He rubbed his throat slightly, wondering why his voice seemed so raspy and unused.

The door opened up, revealing a fairly overweight and balding man. He definitely wasn't Kyle. Or Kyle's type. Before Kenny could demand to know why this gentleman was in their apartment in his underwear with Star Wars paraphernalia looming behind him, the man was screaming something about his brains, the apocalypse and the undead before flinging a gun into his own mouth and shooting. Kenny watched in shock as blood and brains splattered all over the Han Solo cardboard cut out and he uneasily entered the apartment, shutting the door behind him.

Walking through the now silent apartment, Kenny frowned. There was nothing, no sign of his existence, or Kyle's. It was like they never lived there. The bed wasn't as big and was on a wooden frame instead of a metal one. Also, it was facing South instead of North. The towels in the hallway closet were mismatched instead of all a nice dark green color. The bathroom was filthy and the shower curtain was a kiddy Space curtain. Take out filled the kitchen bathroom and instant ramen and cereal filled the cupboards. Kenny peered at the TV in the living room, his eyes narrowing at the paused frame of some cheap porno and he angrily kicked the beanbag chair behind him before shooting a glare to the immobile body next to him. Blood stained the carpet and the corpse was already starting to grow pale, and God the guy was hairy.

Wrinkling his nose at the smell of death, Kenny stepped over the body again, moving warily to the counter. He flung wrappers off of the counter and sighed in relief when he found the phone. He may not know where Kyle was, or why this man had taken their apartment so quickly, but he knew he could rely on Sheila Broflovski to tell him his boyfriend's current location. Even after he moved out, that woman had a leash on the redhead. He dialed the number and waited patiently, wiping at his nose as the smell of death got stronger and…more enticing.

Finally, someone, a young man's voice answered the phone, "Broflovski residence, Ike speaking."

"Hi…Hey…uhm…is Kyle there?" Kenny asked, assuming the younger boy would recognize his voice.

There was a moment before hesitation, "Kyle hasn't lived here for years." Ike replied with a tone of humor.

"Oh…well I know that," Kenny replied, "I just found out that he doesn't live in his old apartment anymore and I don't have his new place. I was sorta hoping to see him."

There was a sigh on the other end, "You'd think Kyle would tell his friends where he lives himself," Ike muttered, "Okay, here's the address."

Kenny wrote down the address on a wrapper and shoved in his back pocket, "Thanks Ike," He said gratefully, "You….know who this is, right?"

"One of Kyle's stupid friends?" The boy replied with a monotonous tone in his voice. "Didn't we already establish that?"

Kenny blinked, his mind asking a thousand questions but his voice unable to word a single one, "I…..yeah…I suppose we did." He muttered

"Duh." Ike replied before hanging up.

Dial tone greeted Kenny as he tried to wind his mind around things. Ike was just being a little jackass again. Yes, that was it. The little twerp was just being a jackass and playing jokes on him. He did that sometimes.

Kenny hung up and ran a hand warily down his face. He was tired, and getting hungry and that damn body was actually starting to smell good. Fuck. He glanced at the pale body, watching the blood crust over. Stepping over to the body, Kenny bent down and wiped his finger across the trail of blood. Without a second thought, he stuck his blood covered finger into his mouth. His eyes drifted closed as he moaned slightly, the taste sending a slight shiver of delight down his spine. God, it was so good it was almost orgasmic.

A split second later, his eyes snapped open and he jerked his finger out of his mouth. Gagging, Kenny wiped his hand on his dirty jeans and stumbled back out of the apartment. He flung himself against the railing, waiting to throw up he stared out into the cold night in. For the third time in less than two hours, he felt himself get hit with panic.

Why did he do that?

Kenny shook his head, a pain piecing through his temple. He whimpered slight when it got worse and he pushed away from the railing. Stumbling, he tried to work for the stairs but everything went black.

* * *

The small white, one story house was perfect. The lawn was a lush gorgeous green, the walkway wasn't cracked at all, and the gate to the small front yard fence didn't squeak. The flowers in the flowerbed were in bloom, bright happy colors bursting from the soft dirt. An apple tree stood off to the right side of the yard, its leaves full and green. Kenny eyed the apples growing on it and was shocked to find that they didn't seem appetizing. A squeak was issued from under his foot and he stared down at the ball he stepped on. A dog, it looked like a boxer, came bounding from the back yard, only to stop and back away from Kenny, whimpering. He frowned, wondering why that happened since animals generally liked him.

He took long strides, excitement filling him as he approached the door. Last night had been the first night in…forever…that he'd slept without Kyle's warm body next to his. He actually didn't remember sleeping that night. The last thing he remembered was a sense of panic and fear as well as feeling painfully hungry and the first thing he remembered in the morning was wandering outside the limits of town feeling satisfied and full. It was troubling but he figured he was so stressed from the guy shooting himself and Kyle's disappearance that he had some sort of black out and ended up sleep walking.

Straightening up in front of the door, Kenny brushed off whatever dirt he could and straightened up his hair before plastering on his best smile and ringing the door bell. He'd obviously been gone for at least a month if Kyle had moved into a house. Hell, longer and Kyle bought it with that money he had stashed away. God, he hoped Kyle wasn't pissed about that. He could really keep grudges.

The doorbell sang out some classy song which totally suited Kyle in Kenny's mind. Anyone else, it would seem cheesy unless they were a seventy year old woman who lived with a bunch of cats. For a moment, Kenny idly wondered if people had doorbells that were like that 'La Cucaracha' car horn. And he wondered if those people actually had any friends. Or if they were actually Mexican or just really corny white-folk.

He also wondered when he got so scatterbrained.

The door pulled open, a tall, young man held it, a smile on his face. His deep blue eyes were only slightly framed by the black hair that fell into his face. He was wearing jeans and a shirt sporting some band Kenny never heard of and when he registered who was at the door, his eyes widened. He screamed, leaping back and the door slammed in his face.

Kenny was filled more with elation than confusion as he knocked loudly, pounding his fist against the wood, "Stan?! Stan, it's me! It's Kenny, you douche!"

There was a slight scraping sound coming from inside before Stan opened the door, the chain the black haired man had inserted was holding it from being open completely and barring Kenny from entrance. "Kenny…dude…wh-what…"

Kenny planted his palm on the door, glaring at the chain and then at Stan, who flinched, "Where's Kyle." He demanded harshly.

Stan was Kyle's friend. He always had been and he always would be. Kenny understood that. Stan was Kenny's friend too, they'd been friends first. They both happened to be pummeled by their older siblings outside their homes when they looked up at each other across the train tracks and there was a spark. It was a sign that there was, in fact, someone who understood what hardships they went through. When they, Kenny and Kyle, told him about their relationship, the other man had expressed an immense amount of joy and hugged them and everything.

The best part was, Stan worked in the morgue. He was actually Kenny's personal mortician, believe it or not. The blonde remembered getting his friend a scrap book 'for the memories' and Stan just snorted but promised he would use it.

Stan was his friend then. But right now, he was in the way.

"Where's Kyle." He demanded again, pushing slightly on the door.

"I-I'm not going to let you eat him." Stan stated boldly, pushing the door against the blonde.

Kenny gave him a confused look, "Eat him?" He asked, "What the fuck are you talking about, Stan?" He pushed against the door, only harder this time.

"What do you mean 'what am I talking about'?" Stan asked, pushing as well, "You want him for his body!"

"And his mind!" Kenny agrued.

Stan paled, looking as though he was about to vomit and he pushed harder on the door, "Kenny, just fucking leave and never come back! And leave Kyle alone!"

"Who needs to leave me alone?"

Kenny whipped around, his eyes large and round as he stared at Kyle Broflovski. Kyle stared back with an equally surprised expression, dropping the paper shopping bag of toilet paper, juice and candy bars. His red curly, but finally tamed hair, stuck out and, like Stan's hair, framed his large green eyes. His hand reached out cautiously as he took a careful step towards Kenny.

"K-Kenny?" He stopped, and dropped his hands to his sides as he seemed to register something.

"Kyle!" Kenny choked out and took a step forward; staring at his boyfriend in shock as the redhead took a step back, holding his hands up as if to brace himself. "Dude, Kyle…what's wrong? Aren't you happy to see me?"

Kenny nearly yelped when Stan ran, shoving past him and protectively swinging his arms around the frozen redhead. "I wont' let you hurt him, Kenny!" Stan snapped.

Kenny stared at Stan and how he was holding Kyle. His Kyle. Stan was holding his Kyle in a too protective and intimate way. He looked between the two of them, "What's going on here?" He asked, mildly surprised by the animalistic snarl that emitted from his throat.

Stan's grip on Kyle tightened, causing Kenny to growl and the redhead gently pushed away from his best friend, but didn't make a move towards Kenny, "Kenny," Kyle started carefully, visibly trembling, "You're dead."

Kenny rolled his eyes, "I _was_, Kyle. But I'm not anymore. I'dve thought you'd be used to it by now."

"No," Kyle took a shaking step forward, Stan caught his hand and the redhead offered a reassuring smile, "Kenny, you've been dead for four years now." He said calmly, "I don't know why you didn't come back but…Stan and I are…"

"But I'm back!" Kenny yelled desperately, "I'm back and we can still be together!"

Kyle visibly cringed, "Kenny, you're dead." He choked out.

"How can you say that?!" The blonde yelled angrily and Kyle shot forward, turning Kenny around and shoving him into the house.

They both ignored Stan's desperate yell as the redhead shoved Kenny down the neat little hall and into the bathroom, positioning him to look into the mirror before backing away and rubbing his temples. Kyle stifled a slight sob as Stan stood in the door way and Kenny stared in shock at his reflection.

His skin was a pale purple blue color and his hair seemed to have lost its sheen. Everything, actually, lost its sheen. He looked dirty, lifeless. He was lacking a sparkle in his eye that used to be, was _supposed_ to be, there. The side of his cheek was stitched together, as well as across his left eye. He tried to cry, because he really wanted to, but he couldn't. He bit his lip but he didn't feel pain and there was no blood. Something red and crusty surrounded his mouth and seemed to have dribbled down his neck. It was also smeared across his orange hoodie.

"You're dead, Kenny." Kyle sobbed, leaning against the wall.


	3. Handcuffs, Meatballs, and Fights

_Disclaimer – I do not own South Park_

* * *

Stan Marsh and Kyle Broflovski stared in shock and repulsion as Kenny McCormick sat across from then, holding a lump of beef in his hand and devouring it hungrily, small droplets of its red meat juices dribbling down his chin. He licked his fingers greedily when he finished before wiping his mouth on his sleeve and taking a small sip of the water Kyle had laid out for him.

"Are you sure you don't want juice or something," Kyle asked cautiously when Kenny wrinkled his nose ever-so-slightly.

Kenny shook his head, an expression of disgust twisting on his face, "Ugh, no thanks."

Kyle frowned, "But you used to like jui-"

"The human body consists of anywhere from fifty-five percent to seventy-eight percent of water, Kyle," Stan interrupted, refusing to take his eyes off of Kenny, "Juice has no part in the human body's functions, so naturally a zombie-"

"Don't call me that, you jackass!"

"-Wouldn't be interested in it." Stan shrugged slightly, "He might even react like vegetarians who haven't eaten meat and get sick…somehow…" He sighed, rubbing his temples, "God, I knew I shouldn't have let them take care of your body." He groaned.

Kenny blinked, "What?"

Stan looked up at him before leaning back in his chair, "That company you worked for. They insisted they take care of your body. Part of you contract or something?" Kenny frowned, "You weren't even cold, they swooped you up so fast. I don't even know what they did because it doesn't look like you've decomposed at all. You're just…obviously dead."

"Huh…"

Kyle's eyes drifted down to the table, a frown wearing his features down. Kenny repressed the urge to leap across the table and hold the redhead. To comfort him and tell him that everything was going to end up perfectly fine. Stan's glare stopped him as well as the fact that Kenny's hand, the one that he didn't eat with, was handcuffed to the heater attached to the wall.

He didn't want to know where Stan got the handcuffs or what he used them for. He knew, but he didn't want to know because it should've been him playing kinky handcuff games with Kyle and not some faggy jackass named Stan who hung out with dead people for a job. And poked at them with cold, impersonal instruments no less.

"Okay, so despite the fact that I've lost my sexy luster and I have a few…injuries…and the opposite of a vegan diet, things can go back to being perfectly normal," Kenny started, straightening up and glaring directly at Stan, "So, thank you, Stan but your services will no longer be needed."

"Kenny," Kyle spoke up quietly, looking at the zombie with a pained expression, "I love Stan."

There was a long, intense moment of silence as Kenny furrowed his brow. The air started to thicken with how tense the moment seemed. Stan and Kyle shifted as they watched Kenny's eyes move as he thought deeply about the situation.

Finally he looked up at Kyle, a hurt expression etched on his face, "Does that mean you're breaking up with me?" He thought for another moment before pointing at Stan, "You _cheated_ on me!"

Stan and Kyle quickly glanced at each other, both a bit perturbed by the fact that the zombie before them seemed stuck in his still slightly spastic teenage phase. He _did_ die at nineteen after all. Kyle cleared his throat slightly and looked at Kenny, "Kenny. I love you, I do, but you're dead." He started, blinking quickly so another round of tears would escape his eyes, "And I appreciate everything you've done for me. The house, the bills, the fact that I stay and home and write…Kenny, thank you for all of this but, I love Stan and I can't be with you."

"I'm willing to share."

Kyle couldn't help but laugh slightly, "Kenny, polygamy is one thing but necrophilia?"

Kenny smiled sadly, "Yeah, yeah, you're right," He sighed, fighting off the slight pout on his face.

Kyle grimaced and looked at Stan, "Let's let him have the guestroom."

Stan shot away from the table, on his feet in seconds and staring at Kyle as if he were in fact not the smartest boy he'd ever known but the exact opposite, "What?! No!"

"Oh, come on, Stan!" Kyle challenged from his seat, "He's got nowhere to go! And I'll make sure he has meat to eat and he'll help around the house! I'll make sure he stays out of trouble!"

"He's not a dog, Kyle!" Stan snapped, "He's a _zombie_!"

"I resent that!"

"A walking corpse that wants nothing but to eat brains!"

Kenny glared, "I don't want to eat Kyle's brains!" He argued.

"No," Stan said, starting to pace angrily, "You want to fuck his brains out and make him a fucking zombie too!"

"No he doesn't, Stan." Kyle snapped, his face screwing up into that look of irritation he'd always get when an argument was heating up between him and Eric Cartman. "He's too sweet to think so selfishly!"

Kenny decided to keep quiet during their argument, mentally throwing away his 'Plan B' since Kyle pretty much threw a conscience at him without knowing it. Goddamn Kyle. Goddamn conscience. Why didn't it die along with his love life?

Stan gestured wildly at Kenny, "He's. A. ZOMBIE!"

Kenny tried to stand up dramatically and angrily which didn't work because his handcuffed hand yanked him back down. Trying to brush it off, he glared at Stan, pointing a threatening finger, "Don't fucking call me that!" He snapped, not entirely sure why he was getting so angry about it.

"Then what am I supposed to fucking call you?!" Stan challenged, "It's what you fucking are, Kenny! You're a zombie!"

"No! He's not," Kyle snapped, glaring at the table top. "Zombies aren't aware of their surroundings, Stan. They don't make rational choices or…feel."

Kenny smiled thankfully at the redhead, knowing full well if it were up to him, he wouldn't have thought of that. He told Stan he liked Kyle for his brains.

Stan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, "Okay, fine. If he's not a zombie, what is he?" He asked in a forced calm voice.

Kyle frowned, his brow furrowed in thought when Kenny gave a weak smile and a shrug, "Living impaired?" He suggested.

Kyle managed a slight laugh as Stan squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. "Whatever the case, he's not staying here." He finalized.

Kyle shot the other man a glare, "Stan. This is his house. His money paid for it. And to thank him for providing a home for us, he's going to stay in the guest room." The redhead declared in an authorial voice which wasn't unlike his mother's.

And much to Kenny's dislike, it had an undertone of 'or else we don't have sex'. He'd be happier, of course, if Stan hadn't slumped his shoulders in defeat, giving into the great and powerful nookie. _Kenny's_ nookie. If he was going to be staying with Stan and Kyle, he was going to have to do something about their relationship. Because the undead blonde simply refused to let Kyle give up his long gone innocence to someone who wasn't him any longer.

Dammit!

"Fine," Stan growled, "He can stay in the guest room." The raven haired man shot a glare at Kenny, "But one fuck up, just one, and he's got a bullet to the brain."

Kyle and Kenny traded looks of relief, because Kenny did want a place to stay, and Kyle smiled softly at Stan, standing up to put a hand on the black haired man's shoulder, "Thank you, Stan." He said softly before kissing Stan's cheek.

Kenny couldn't help the low animalistic growl that rumbled from his throat and he met Stan's glare straight on. Kyle sighed in defeat and gave Stan a pat on the shoulder before moving to the fridge and helping himself to starting dinner. Stan, a clear expression of frustration on his face, stormed past Kenny while muttering about getting gas and the blonde watched him pull his shoes on as well as his jacket before storming out of the small house. Kenny's attention turned back to Kyle, a feeling of overwhelming elation coming over him as he tried to take a step towards the redhead, grunting when handcuffs held him back. He tugged at them in frustration, cursing Stan, handcuffs, and heaters in general. He didn't pay mind to the soft sigh behind him and jumped in surprise and Kyle gently pushed him aside and unlocked the cuff attached to his hand.

"Shouldn't treat guests so horribly," Kyle muttered quietly before moving back to preparing dinner.

Kenny fidgeted nervously, unsure of what to do. Awkwardly, he sat down and watched dinner's preparation for a few minutes before deciding to speak, "So, how long have you…"

Kyle looked at him and Kenny winced. Kyle's green eyes were red and he wiped the trails of tears off with his shoulders, sniffling slightly, "How long I've been waiting for you to come back?" He asked, chopping up a carrot, "Or how long have I been with Stan?"

"Erm…both."

Kyle set down his knife and walked back to the table, sitting across from Kenny and folding his hands across the tabletop. He sniffled again and looked at the zombie dead on, "I've been with Stan for about...one and a half years now," Kyle explained, "And I've been waiting for you to come back for…God…the whole time." He shook his head tiredly, "Stan knew I'd always wait for you. He never brought up the possibility of you coming back or how…everything would work out. I think he's scared." Kyle gave a humorless laugh that was mixed with a sob, "You're back now but you're not completely there." He buried his face in his arms and shuddered.

Kenny's hands curled into fists and he glared at a tiny crack in the wall above Kyle's head, "I'm not giving up on you, Kyle." He stated firmly, causing the young man across from him to stop his crying. "You're mine."

Kyle watched him carefully, studying his determined face. "Kenny, Stan-" He was cut off by a low growl from the undead man and he sighed, deciding that he'd talk to Stan later and maybe research zombies a bit. For now, he'd just change the subject, "Those were some job benefits," He started in a softer voice, "I mean, to pay for your funeral and then all that money...and from just a security job." Kenny winced and Kyle gave him a confused but suspicious look, "What?" He asked. Kenny squirmed slightly, forcing himself to avoid eye contact, "Kenny," Kyle started, glaring, "What are you keeping from me?"

"I…I wasn't a security guard…when I died I mean," Kenny replied, "I was one when I started but…"

Kyle frowned, "Then what were you?" He asked quietly.

"I knew you'd object but the pay they offered me…" the undead blonde sighed and dropped his head, "I was a test subject."

"_What_?!"

Kenny ducked and covered his head with his hands instinctively, "I did it for you, Kyle! I did it for you!" He cried out. "I love you and I wanted to make sure you were happy and taken care of!"

"Goddammit, Kenny!" Kyle shouted, "Don't you think?! Why would you do something so….so fucking stupid?!" He shot up to his feet and ran a hand down his face, forcing himself to be calm as the undead blonde practically assumed the fetal position, "There's meat in the fridge if you get hungry and your room is the second door on the left, I need…I need to lie down."

Kenny nodded slowly, watching as Kyle silently stepped out of the kitchen and listened intently to his soft steps down the hall. He let his head gently hit the table as he groaned in frustration. Standing up, he peeked into the fridge and grabbed the bowl of pre-made meatballs and a water bottle before softly walking to the room Kyle designated as his.

The light green walls made the small room seem more spacious and the queen sized bed was pressed against the far wall. Across from it was a large television and DVD player. A writing desk was against the wall and under the window. The wall that shared the door also held the closet.

Curling up on the bed, Kenny took off the lid of the bowl that held the meatballs before popping one in his mouth. He gave a soft, satisfied moan before turning on the television and flipping on the cartoon channel. He turned the volume down, as to not disturb Kyle, and leaned back against the pillows, letting himself sort his thoughts.

He was dead. He was living impaired, or as Stan liked to call it, a zombie. He woke up in a crappy wooden box, had to dig his way out and when he got to his old apartment, a man panicked and committed suicide. He found out where Kyle lived now and, judging from the stains on his hoodie, he…ate the suicide man. Then he came to see Kyle, who was now in a deep relationship with their long time mutual friend, Stan Marsh. To make things worse, they seemed pissed at him when all he did was show up and eat some meat.

Kenny frowned, thinking he was forgetting something, and popped another meatball into his mouth. Ah, yes, now he remembered.

Animals apparently are afraid of him now.


	4. New Clothes, 'Experts', and Cows

_Disclaimer – I do not own South Park_

_Updates are going to be slower on this story because I just, out of the effing blue, signed up for college and I'm aiming to start on the 30__th__. =/ So I'm sort of pressed for time to get all of my shiznit done. I'm NOT abandoning this though. It is my saaaaanity._

* * *

Kenny raised an eyebrow at the bags on his bed and then gave Kyle a sidelong glance. He poked a finger in one of the bags, opening it up slightly and peering inside. He wrinkled his nose and looked at Kyle in confusion, "Clothes?"

Kyle shrug a shoulder, leaning against the doorframe, "Well those are dirty and….bloody," He glanced away quickly, most likely so he didn't have to see the mess on Kenny's hoodie any longer, "And Stan said he knows someone who might be able to help you, but you're not going out looking like," Kyle raised his fingers to emphasize that he was quoting, "'a stereotypical zombie'."

Kenny scowled at that, pouting slightly as he started digging through the clothes to see if they were worthy of his approval. "He probably just wants to drag me out into the middle of nowhere and bash my brain in," He grumbled loudly.

Kyle rolled his eyes, "Kenny, just because he says he wants to do it doesn't mean he will. You're still his friends since, like, forever and your being a walking, talking corpse who's been acting rather childish," That earned the redhead a glare but Kyle sent it right back, "Isn't going to change that."

"I dunno," Kenny stated, tugging out a pair of jeans and some boxers, "I mean, he seemed pretty fucking stoked to get me out of here." He tugged out a shirt and set the clothes he decided to wear aside before tugging his hoodie and shirt off.

"Holy shi-" Kyle's hands covered his mouth and his eyes grew to the size of dinner plates.

Kenny's pale body had retained the harsh bruises from the accident that caused his death and a line of stitches when from his navel to the middle of his chest. The blonde lightly ran his over the stitches, a look of shock on his face. He glanced up at Kyle, who looked ready to vomit, and hurried pulled on the clean shirt.

He then looked at Kyle carefully and nervously, "Did…Did you agree to an autopsy?" He asked, knowing full well his parents only agreed to it when the cause of death wasn't painfully obvious.

Kyle shook his head, "No! You were hit by a truck, that's all I needed to know," He frowned slightly, "They didn't even ask if they could do one."

"God-fucking-dammit!" Kenny snarled as he tugged on the new hoodie he'd pulled out, "Those fucking…I should just…." He growled in frustration, dropping his pants and underwear in anger, tugging on the new clothes without looking at the condition of his legs. "Did they say anything when they gave my body back?" He looked up at Kyle, who winced slightly and Kenny immediately forced himself to calm down.

Kyle shook his head again and watched Kenny tug his socks on, "They offered to pay for the funeral but your dad said that he already had a coffin and plot for you." The redhead explained, "But at the actual funeral, no one from that company came to pay their respects."

Kenny snorted before moving towards the door and the redhead, "Gotta have respect to give it," He stated.

He was about to move past Kyle when he paused momentarily. Their eyes locked and Kenny realized this was the first time they were alone together in a non-stressful environment. Tentatively, he reached out and pressed his hand against the living man's cheek. Kyle unconsciously pressed his cheek against Kenny's hand, his face softening considerably.

A second later he jerked away, looking shocked and fairly confused, "I…Stan's waiting for you outside." He stuttered before stumbling out of the room and into his own room.

Kenny groaned as the door softly closed behind Kyle and skulked down the hall, a frown tugging at his lips. Sliding his feet into his old, worn shoes, Kenny opened the house door, his frown turning to a scowl when Stan shot him an impatient look from his sitting position on the steps. Stan stood up and silently surveyed Kenny before pushing the door open, snatched the red scarf on the coat rack, and winding it around the bottom half of the undead blonde's face and tugging his hood up.

They shot each other annoyed looks before Stan stomped down the steps, Kenny reluctantly followed, tugging the hood on a bit more. "So, who's this friend of yours?" He finally asked as he slid into the passenger seat of Stan's car.

"You'll see," The other man mumbled, starting the engine and pulling out of the spot in front of the little house.

The ride was silent. Neither living nor undead man seemed to interested in the other, Kenny only stared outside, glancing occasionally at Stan with an air of suspicion. South Park's 'downtown' whirred by the windows in less than three minutes and the car slowed to a stop in front of an old two story house. The paint was peeling, the grass had dead patches and in the distance, Kenny could see a glimpse of the cemetery.

Stan got out of the car and Kenny scrambled to follow him, his attention everywhere as the black haired man sauntered up the path and to the intimidating wooden door. Kenny nearly tripped over the gargoyle sitting on the steps and stumbled, grabbing onto Stan's jacket. Stan was yanked back and instinctively, he lunged forward, his hand clinging onto the door knob, turning it and both young men fell onto the floor lying halfway inside the house, Kenny on top of Stan's bottom half.

A dirty pair of purple Doc Marten's stopped a few inches away from Stan's face and he glanced up at the disinterested face of a young man about the same age. He flipped his black and red dyed bangs, pulling his hands out of his black pants pockets and squatting down.

"Generally people knock first," He commented dryly before standing up again. He walked over to the already standing up Kenny McCormick and leaned forward, tugging off the zombie's red scarf. "So, you're it, huh?"

Kenny glared as he swiped off his hood, "I'm not an 'it'," He snapped, stepping off of Stan.

He was ignored as the other man; Kenny couldn't remember his name for the life…or death of him; snatched his chin and maneuvered his head to turn slightly. He glared out of the corner of his eye as Stan's apparent friend emotionlessly examined his stitches before forcing his mouth to open. Kenny moved his glare to the Goth, mildly registering that he was a teeny bit hungry.

"All of his teeth are in good health for a living corpse," The young man mused before lifting Kenny's hoodie and shirt, "Did you give him an autopsy, Stan?"

Kenny smacked at his offender as Stan sat up, shaking his head, "No," He sighed, "The bio-engineering company he worked for took him."

The Goth 'hmm-ed' and stood completely up, straightening up and running a hand through his messy hair. Kenny and Stan glanced at each other quickly, standing up as well, and Kenny glared at the gothic young man, "How, exactly, are you qualified to help me?" He asked with an annoyed tone.

The red and black haired Goth rolled his eyes and moved into towards a room. Stan and Kenny followed him cautiously and found themselves in a dining room. Stan's friend had walked around the large, dark and glossy table and slid a newspaper towards Kenny. "I think this will prove I'm the most qualified person in South Park." He stated coolly.

Glaring, Kenny snatched the paper and frowned. The paper was more underground; a Park County published newspaper for those who were interested in the occult. On the front cover was a picture of the man standing before them, looking as uninterested as the actual person. Next to the photo were the words 'Acclaimed Expert of the Dead Gives Interview'.

Kenny's dull blue eyes flickered up to meet bored dark brown, "'Acclaimed Expert of the Dead'?" He asked.

"He was a colleague of mine," Stan stated, "But he went more into theory than fact."

"It's not exactly theory if I have a living," The Goth studied Kenny for a moment with a glint of excitement in his eyes, "dead specimen standing right in front of me." Kenny glared as the word 'specimen' was used and the apparent expert cleared his throat, "Generally the cause of death is the reason the zombie-"

"Living impaired," Kenny interrupted, glaring still and in the back of his mind, he wondered how this bastard would taste.

"…What?"

"I prefer the term 'Living impaired'."

"Oh…kay…" The Goth and Stan traded glances and Stan shrugged before the Goth began again, "Generally the cause of death is the reason the 'living impaired' would once again rise, but in this case, I think it was what happened after the death-"

"No." Kenny noted that the Goth was getting seriously annoyed with his interruptions and Stan was pinching the bridge of his nose, a sure sign of frustration and/or embarrassment. "I died on a constant basis throughout my life," Kenny explained, the Goth, Kenny still couldn't remember his fucking name, started looking interested, "This is just the first time I returned to the body I died in."

Goth boy seemed to be getting excited, "Okay, so you've risen from the dead before?" He asked and Kenny nodded, "But never from actually…inside your grave?"

"Nope," Kenny replied, "I always just…sorta appeared." He glanced at Stan who nodded in agreement.

"Whatever happened to you, happened when you were taken that lab," The Goth concluded. "Which narrows the whole cause thing down to just science…of course unless the bio-engineering plant has a shaman," He frowned, "Which, in reality isn't all that uncommon for South Park," He mumbled before waving at Kenny, "Lift your shirt."

Kenny did as he was told, eyeing the Goth suspiciously, "You're not going to do anything dirty, are you?" He asked, "Because, no offense, there's already someone."

Both Stan and his friend snorted before the Goth lightly ran his fingers along Kenny's stitched stomach. He glanced up at the blonde, who didn't look affected, "Do you feel anything?" He asked curiously.

"Faintly," The zombie admitted, deciding that it'd be better not to tell the man fondling his stomach that he was getting hungry, "It's almost a slight tickling but…not really. You know?"

"I'm afraid I don't," Goth boy stated absently, poking and prodding at Kenny's stomach. Finally he pulled away and let Kenny drop his shirt and hoodie again. "I don't know how, but you guys need to find out what happened to Kenny." He finally said.

"Really? You figured all that out by poking my stomach?" Kenny asked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

The Goth ignored him and looked at Stan, "I wish I could help, but I'm not about the whole breaking and entering thing," He said, pulling a cigarette and lighter from his pocket and taking a drag, "And you seem to be taking care of him pretty well, just be careful. Get him too emotional and he'll relapse into his baser and more animalistic instincts."

"Well, do you know anyone who could help out?" Stan asked.

The Goth shook his head, ushering the two towards the door and making sure Kenny's scarf was on correctly, "Sorry, Stan. The worst we ever did as kids was sending that Vamp kid to Scottsdale," He smirked slightly and Kenny was surprised that he could actually show emotion, "You guys were the ones who ended up in fucked up situations."

"And look where we are now," Stan replied humorlessly, trading glares with Kenny.

"Just don't shoot him," Goth boy said as if he were a doctor informing a patient what not to do after surgery.

"Can't make any promises."

Stan and Kenny glared at each other as they both simultaneously uttered the reply. The Goth boy chuckled before closing the door behind them and they both stomped off to the car. Stan shoved his hand in his pocket and took out his keys, pushing the button to unlock the door. They slid into their respective seats and Stan started the car.

About five minutes into the drive, Kenny groaned and the black haired man glanced over to him, "What?" He asked.

"I'm _really_ hungry." Kenny whined, "Starving even."

"_Shit_," Stan hissed, glancing around, "There's not a fucking store in sight either." He muttered.

Kenny flailed his arms, "Fucking stop the car!"

"What?"

"Stop the car!" Kenny roared, his nails digging into the legs of his pants and he glared intently out the window.

The car skid to a halt and Kenny quickly unbuckled the seatbelt, practically flinging himself out of the vehicle. Stan watched in horror as the undead boy ran, full speed, at a cow. The animal practically screamed in pain when Kenny made contact and the other cows stampeded, trying to get away from the danger as quickly as possible. The cow continued to scream in anguish until it finally died down.

Stan opened his door and leaned out of the car, his stomach emptying itself of its contents.


	5. Notes, Ash, and Advances

_Disclaimer – I do not own South Park._

_I'm going to take Summer Quarter so more writing time! =D _

_I forced myself to sit down and right because I wanted to get a chapter out for Ken-doll's b-day. So happy birthday, Kenny McCormick! And thank you for being such an adorable little character to play with. _

* * *

Kenny McCormick did not sleep. It wasn't that he didn't want to sleep, he simply couldn't. He had the inability to as a living impaired being. Instead of sleep though, he'd simply get blackouts or, what he liked to think, he died for only a little bit and then came back. At the moment, he was praying to whatever deity he could think of, as well as Satan, that chick with the rocking tits, and that one guy who made that one movie.

Nobody listened though as he squeezed his dead eyes shut and try to smother either himself or the sounds of the low, pleasurable moans and soft whimpers from the other room. Whichever came first. He was actually doing everything in his power to not completely mutilate Stan Marsh for doing such things to his Kyle. Because, after all, it was his job to make his Kyle make those noises.

The fact that he physically couldn't at the moment was just a mere bump in the road.

Stan was the enemy. It was established and printed well in his brain but the Gothy Guy's warning of animalistic behavior scared the unliving shit out of Kenny. He certainly didn't want murder on his hands, that guy he ate committed suicide so it didn't count, and he didn't want to get so carried away that he'd kill Kyle too.

No, he'd simply have to suffer through this for now. Perhaps think of something else. Liking that idea, Kenny held the pillow close and squeezed his mind shut, welcoming the first memory that came to mind…

_Kyle sighed tiredly and watched as Stan scrubbed furiously at the fabric inside his car. Kenny sat on the grass of their lawn, looking irritated as Stan's dog, Boitano, watched him curiously from across the yard. In Kyle's hand was the hose, which he was using to spray down the annoyed zombie. It was dark enough so they didn't have to worry about the neighbors catching sight of Kenny's physical differences so the undead blonde was sitting in his boxers. He rubbed at his face, scowling, and working at the crusty blood that had gotten under his nails._

_Once satisfied that the blonde was clean, Kyle turned off the hose and dropped it down into the grass with a 'thunk' and grabbed a bag that contained some of the new clothes he had purchased for the blonde earlier as well as a couple of towels. Kenny stood up, sopping wet, and strode over to the redhead. Kyle offered a silent smile, holding out a towel and a grin played across Kenny's lips._

_Before Kyle could ask what was on the zombie's mind, Kenny glanced back to make sure Stan wasn't looking before abruptly tugging his boxers down. Kyle's face turned bright red as Kenny swayed his hips to the side ever-so-slightly, "I know you miss this," He cooed teasingly._

_Kyle forced a look of disinterest and made eye contact with Kenny, "I'd miss it more if you had blood flow," He replied shortly, shoving the towel in Kenny's arms._

_The undead blonde looked confused for a second before looking down at a certain part of his body. He seemed to be thinking intently about something and shock crossed his features, "That's not fucking fair!" He shouted. "What good is still having it if it doesn't work?!"_

"_Kenny!" Stan barked, glaring daggers at the nude zombie, "Get your fucking clothes on and leave Kyle alone!"_

_Kenny rolled his dull eyes, looking bitter as he wrapped the towel around his waist. Brushing his wet hair back so water would drip in his face and obstruct his view, he gave Kyle a light pouting look mixed with disdain. "Really? Him?"_

_Kyle shrugged, glancing around the zombie at the furiously scrubbing young man, "What can I say?" Kyle replied, smiling at Kenny, "I like how he makes me feel."_

_Kenny gave a soft laugh and sat down next to Kyle, "I doubt he knows how to make you do that squeal noise," He stated with a grin._

_The light and mildly pleased blush on Kyle's face would have had Kenny hot and ready but the blonde merely growled at his lack of activity. It was certainly going to be something once he fixed this dead problem of his._

Kenny groaned as he opened his eyes again. In hopes of thinking about something distracting, his mind merely went back a few hours and taunted the fact that it wasn't him with Kyle in the next room. He angrily chucked the pillow across the room, satisfied that the thump against the wall quieted the two lovers and sat up.

He blinked, pausing momentarily at the crinkling of paper before glancing down. His eyebrows raised in surprise at the site of a black envelope safety-pinned to his shirt. He looked around the room, pretty sure that Stan or Kyle wouldn't stop their activities just to slip him a note. He didn't even hear anyone enter.

His eyes landed on the small pile of ash in the corner of his room. Shakily, he tore the envelope off of him and hastily ripped it open. Inside was a neat little black index card, completely void of any writing. He turned it over and frowned, there wasn't any writing on that side either. Turning it over again, he jumped, yelping slightly at the arrival of dripping red letters.

'_Your army awaits you. Prepare for war. Soon, the Earth shall be ours and the humans will bow.'_

Kenny flipped the card over again and back but nothing changed. Cautiously, he set the card and envelope on the nightstand. As soon as he drew back his hand, they were engulfed by black flames and with a yelp, Kenny was across the room, pressing his back against the wall and watching with wide eyes. Nipping his lip, he held still for a few moments, making sure Stan and Kyle weren't making an attempt to see if he was alright. Well, Kyle would make sure; Stan would probably come to beat him over the head for trying to ruin his sex. Fucking bastard.

Once he was sure he was going to be left alone, Kenny moved to the nightstand, cautiously crawling over his bed. There was a small pile of ash, much like the one in the corner of his room and when he brushed it aside he noted that the piece of furniture itself wasn't damaged. He made a small noise of relief, frowning when he made it but brushed it off since he couldn't really sigh without the ability to breathe, and quickly exited the room.

Silently, he made his way down the hall and into the kitchen. He grabbed the dustpan and broom, pausing for a moment. Something flashed by outside, he saw it from the corner of his eye. Kenny froze immediately, feeling a prickling at the back of his neck. His dull eyes drifted cautiously to the window and his grip tightened on the broom when he saw nothing.

"What are you doing?"

Kenny yelped, spinning around and swinging the broom at his apparent attacker. Kyle ducked quickly and stared at Kenny in shock. "What is your problem!?"

"I…uh…." Kenny shakily put the broom aside and ran his hands through his hair, "I thought I saw something…and I was watching a scary movie," He replied, forcing a smile.

Kyle gave him an odd look, "Kenny, you eat the flesh and organs of living creatures. You don't really have much to be afraid of."

Kenny stumbled and fell into the nearest chair, twisting to put his hands in his face, "I'm just…a little freaked," He croaked before pausing. He wasn't sure if he wanted to tell Kyle about the note. He sure as hell didn't want to worry the redhead but the message was quite honestly scaring him.

Kyle stepped closer to him and the blonde realized that the other man was wearing only a large shirt and boxers. Kyle knelt down so he was looking up at the undead man in the chair, his eyes filled with sympathy and his hands on Kenny's knees to keep him balanced, "You're really having troubles adjusting, aren't you?" He asked quietly.

Kenny made the mistake of looking Kyle in the eye. He gently rested his hands on top of the redhead's, "I…I can't feel anything," He started, just as quietly, "But…I hurt, Kyle…I _hate_ seeing the way Stan looks at you. Knowing that he touches you at night…and it's so hard to stay calm…I just…I ca-"

Kyle's warm lips on his cold silenced Kenny. Kyle pressed forward slightly, his eyes closed and cheeks dusted in pink. Kenny kissed back; bringing his hands up to cup the redhead's face and nearly grinned at the soft shiver he got. It was most likely from the cold but the idea that he did it only thrilled Kenny more. Though he didn't have blood flow and couldn't really do what he used to do with Stan around, it was pleasing to find that Kyle still found him remotely attractive somehow.

Which was weird but if Kenny could love Kyle for his mind, why not the other way around?

They parted, staring at each other gently before Kyle's eyes widened and he fell back, crawling backwards across the floor until his back hit the bottom cabinets and he stuttered incomprehensively. Kenny stared at him in concern and surprise as the redhead covered his mouth.

"Shit," Kyle finally uttered, "What did I just….fucking shit!"

Kenny frowned and stood up, "It's probably best if I went out for the night," He stated quietly, making his way towards the door as Kyle whimpered.

"K-Kenny, wait," Kenny turned slightly, giving Kyle a curious look as he desperately tried to mask the hurt and guilt he was feeling, thankfully the redhead was staring straight ahead, "I…you need to sneak into those labs?" Kenny jerked his head slightly, unsure if Kyle saw the movement out of his peripheral or not, "D-Don't do anything rash. I know someone who can help."

Kenny stared at the redhead for a moment, watching Kyle force his eyes to keep fixated on the opposite wall. His face was flushed and his expression held dismay. Kenny resisted the urge to try and comfort him, opting for the better idea of leaving the kitchen, tugging his shoes on, and silently leaving the small house.

Kenny wasn't sure where he was going to go at first. He would've liked to visit his family but at this hour, it just felt rude. Plus his parents might decide to just end it for him and hope he goes to a better place. He wandered aimlessly through town, his hood up just in case, and his eyes lazily grazing the few twenty-four hour markets.

Out of one particular market stepped a pale man with black and red dyed hair. He flicked his long bangs from his face before lighting up one of his newly purchased cigarettes. Kenny held his ground as the Goth coolly crossed the street, only noticing the zombie when he was walking towards the blonde, his face lighting up immediately.

"Kenny!"

Kenny smiled back, mentally berating himself for not asking Stan his name, "Yeah, hey!"

"What are you doing out so late?" The Goth asked, Kenny decided that he was just going to fucking nickname the guy. "Not getting into trouble, I hope."

Kenny let out a laugh and slung an arm around the other man's shoulders, "Well, Red," He started coolly, "You're actually just the guy I wanted to see."

"Really?" Red, he didn't seem to mind the nickname so Kenny was keeping it, asked, "Why's that?"

Kenny noted the fairly pleased expression on the Goth's face and grinned, "Well, how about a trade," He suggested, "I crash at your place tonight and you get an exclusive interview with an actual living impaired person."

Red seemed highly enticed with the idea and he smirked at Kenny, "Deal," He replied, leading Kenny to his car. The zombie eagerly got inside the vehicle and Red started the engine, "So, problems at home?" He asked.

Kenny shrugged, "Just for tonight, yeah," he replied, momentarily hoping Kyle didn't go into his room and find the ash piles.

They arrived at the old house soon enough and Red lead Kenny inside, "We don't have any spare rooms," He started, "So do you mind just bunking with me?"

"Not at all."

Red gave a short nod, starting up the creaking old steps with Kenny close behind. They walked down the hall, past three doors, one of which was loudly playing God knows what and the other was reeking of incense. Red opened the last door and held it open for Kenny, who walked into the room looking around curiously.

The lush four poster bed with red and black covers was the first thing Kenny's eyes laid on. He could probably fit four and a half people on the damn thing it was so huge. The room was a dark grey color and the far wall was practically a giant bookshelf. A few feet from that wall sat a simple desk with a laptop. Various band posters covered the walls and the doors to the closet were replaced with black curtains.

"Daaaaamn," Kenny stated, drawing the word out to emphasize his amazement and appreciation for the room and he made his way to the bed, sitting down and squirming into the softness with delight. "This is a really nice place."

"Yeah, I have to say I've done pretty well for myself," Red agreed as he sat down next to Kenny.

"I'll say!" Kenny started, "Red, this place is a fucki-"

And for the second time that night, Kenny McCormick, living corpse, was cut off by someone else's lips on his own.


	6. Fire, Brits, and Beheading

_Disclaimer – I do not own South Park_

_Geez, I don't know why I couldn't pump this thing out. I started it…twice…and couldn't get a good beginning of the chapter. Then it hit me. Kenny's a zombie._

_Oh! And I actually MADE something with my tablet and Corel! Its Living Impaired Kenny! Just click my homepage and it's the first pic on DevArt. I'm so proud of myself._

* * *

Kenny could hear the distant sound of sirens as he watched the house burn, flickering orange. Something uttered a moan and the roof collapsed in on one side. He issued a soft grunt, wiping his blood covered mouth on his sleeve before glancing down at the pale slimy object in his hand. He rolled his eyes and tossed the tongue of the Goth who so rudely kissed him into the fire before turning and starting down the road without a second glance.

He didn't remember exactly what had happened after Red kissed him. Everything went blank and he only could catch glimpses of the occurrences. His ripping Red's tongue out of his mouth, the screaming, the blood and tearing of skin until the Goth finally drowned in his own blood while Kenny feasted on his innards. Then his roommates, the tall big nosed guy, the midget and the pudgy chick came in. There were screams and Kenny quickly killed them too. Once he was full, he lit the house on fire.

Kenny idly thought that would've been the best fucking monster kill if it weren't for the fact that he slipped on some of Henrietta's intestine and fell on his ass. His jeans now had a large crusty brownish red spot right on his rear. It sort of took a stab at his pride too.

As he made his way through the darkened streets of South Park, he peeled off his hoodie, turning it inside out and tying it around his waste to hide the blood. Of course, people would think he's insane for walking around in a shirt in freezing temperatures but hey, what the fuck are they doing up at this time anyway?

He paused momentarily when he heard a rustling in the alley next to him. He didn't look but out of his peripheral he could've sworn he saw a pair of glowing orbs. A low growl escaped his throat, he had no idea why but the prickling at the back of his neck didn't help. Turning, he glared into the alley and blinked. The orbs were clearly gone but there was a noise. He crouched instinctively, once again wondering in the back of his mind where he learned this and decided to blame the walking corpse thing, when a young man walked out of the darkness, looking fairly ruffled.

He was a pale and lanky young man, those his cheeks were flushed, with longish blonde hair. He wore grey trousers, which he was adjusting, a white button up shirt, black tie and red sweater-vest. The grey newsboy hat on his head was crooked and his hair was untidy. He didn't seem to notice Kenny, who was looking at him with a dumbfounded expression, until he started primping his messed up hair and offered the zombie a cheerful smile.

"Well, hello there," He greeted politely in a proper British accent, "I'm awfully sorry I didn't notice you at first."

The young man seemed vaguely familiar but he obviously didn't make a big enough impact for Kenny to remember his name. Of course, he seemed to not remember anyone who wasn't Kyle or Stan lately. "Uh…it's cool," He replied warily, maneuvering more into the darkness to lessen the risk of an anti-zombie uproar. "What were you doing in there?"

The young man blushed deeply, "Oh…well…I was just…visiting an old friend," He replied weakly.

The undead blonde raised an eyebrow, "In a dark alley in the middle of the night?"

The other blonde squeaked slightly, "Yes…well you see Kenny-"

"How do you know my name?"

The blonde squeaked again, "We were waiting for you!" He blurted, searching his clothes for something in a panic, "He unfortunately had to leave, business with his father, but left me in charge to leave you a message."

Kenny's eyes narrowed, "Are you the one who fucking snuck into my room and safety pinned that note to me?!"

"N-Not me exactly…"

"It lit…on _fire_!"

"I-I'm awfully sorry for that!" The young man blubbered, "You see, the notes were designed to do that so mortals or holy beings wouldn't be able to see any evidence or clue of what is to come." He shakily held out a black envelope.

Kenny eyed him suspiciously but snatched the envelope, "Who are you anyway?" He asked in annoyance, "You look familiar."

"Why, we went to school together," The young man said in a cheerfully helpful voice, "I'm Pip, remember?"

Kenny nodded slowly, "Ah, yeah, the French kid."

"British," Pip corrected, sounding snippy. "Anyway, please read the note as soon as possible and don't discuss it with anyone." He tipped his hat and started back into the dark alley. "We'll see each other again soon enough."

Kenny stared as the blonde disappeared into the darkness, whistling a cheerful tune, before glancing down at the black envelope. Cautiously he ripped it open and looked at the card. After flipping it around a few times, the red message finally appeared.

'_Friday the Thirteenth, the docks, thirteen minutes to midnight.'_

He grunted slightly, it was only the eleventh so he'd have to wait two more days until he could get his apparent harasser (and Pip) to stop sending him creepy notes that foretold doom, because he was pretty sure if they wrote one, they'd write more. Unless, of course, they could help him with his predicament, because killing those Goths really put him in a shithole.

Stan was going to be uberly pissed.

And Kyle was going to be disappointed.

Ouch.

The thought of Kyle Broflovski, the love of Kenny's life and unlife, being disappointed in him was too much to handle. Of course, it probably was going to occur but if Kenny told him that it was in self defense, which it sorta kinda was, then maybe things would work out. Stan would still be a douche about it but who needs him?

No, Kenny was pretty much screwed and not in the good way.

Unsure of what to do since he still had probably a few hours until daybreak, Kenny set the card down, watched it burn momentarily and set off for the cemetery. It was cliché but it was the only place he could think of since the only places he was being accepted were either awkward at the moment or burned down.

As he walked, he idly thought of his accomplishments of the night. Kyle kissed him, which was awesome, but then promptly freaked out and Kenny left to give the redhead some thinking space. While wandering the streets, Kenny ran into the next person who actually accepted him. Apparently, though, Red accepted him _too much_ and the blonde had lost it. Kenny mildly found it ironic since Red was the one who warned 'not to get him too angry' or whatever. Red's roommates then came in and Kenny had himself a lovely little feast.

He had to admit though, human tasted _way_ better than cow or pig. In fact, he wondered if he could get away with becoming some sort of vigilante. Nobody was going to miss the rapists, murderers and door-to-door salesmen, right? Right. And if he couldn't score any of those, he could just as easily go the Colfax Lane and help himself to some whore. They were practically asking to be eaten…only not in the sense he was intending.

Oh well.

Reaching the cemetery, Kenny helped himself in and strolled toward the large corner that was designated as 'The McCormick Plots'. His body pretty much took half of the cemetery and Kenny often wondered why his parents didn't simply cremate him and chuck his ashes out somewhere.

Halfway to his destination he paused though.

There was the sound of digging, soft grunting and mumbling and then a loud crack echoed through the air. Kenny crouched down and edged over, his brow furrowing as he peered over a headstone.

A young man, probably a couple years older than Kenny was supposed to be, was climbing out of a grave, looking dirtied. He wore either grey or dark green cargo pants and a somewhat tight black shirt, fingerless gloves covering his hands. His hair was short but a messy brown. He began filling the hole up with his shovel as a cigarette hung loosely from his mouth.

"Fucking 'eads should be removed before burial," He grumbled in a thick French accent, pausing a moment to take a drag of the cigarette. Kenny shifted slightly, silently he thought, but the brunette had apparently heard him since he held he shovel like he was ready to swing. "Come out, you fucking coward, or die with your eyes closed!"

Kenny had no idea what that saying meant but he surely didn't want to find out. He held his hands up to show he was unarmed and stood slowly, making a point to look at the other man straight in the eye. "It's okay, dude," He started calmly, "I was just leaving for another part of the cemetery…"

The man issued a slight growlish noise as he and Kenny eyed each other warily. Obviously they sensed that the other was a possible danger but clearly didn't want to deal with it on this night. Kenny just wanted to rest for a little bit, relax from his busy night, and this guy probably wanted the same.

"You are a zombie."

"I prefer 'living impaired', thankyouverymuch."

The man chuckled, leaning against a nearby headstone. "Ah, you are ze one Kyle Broflovski told me about."

Kenny tensed and eyed the man suspiciously, "You know Kyle?"

"Oui."

"How?" The zombie asked gruffly, obviously not pleased.

"We are…how you say....War Buddies?" The man replied shortly before starting to dump dirt into the hole once again, "I 'elped him try to save Terrance and Phillip."

Kenny watched him in silence, absorbing this information. As his mind worked around the other man's pronunciation of Phillip, effectively turning it into 'Philleep', he vaguely remembered Kyle telling him about the strange French boy from the American-Canadian War.

"You're the Mole?" He asked.

"Oui."

"The guy who died in Kyle's arms?"

The living man paused, tensing for a moment before returning to his work, "I do not know what you are talking about. I am clearly still alive." He snapped.

Kenny grinned, deciding that the Mole was fairly amusing, "I die all the time but look at me now," He shot back playfully.

"You are a walking corpse."

"Oh yeah…damn." Mole issued an amused snort and finished with his hole. He returned to leaning against a headstone, wiping his forehead before swiping a bottle of water behind the stone and taking a swig. "So…what exactly are you doing?" Kenny asked, eyeing the fresh dirt, "And why did Kyle tell you about me?"

Mole set the water bottle back down and looked at Kenny, "Beheading 'zem so they do not become like you," He replied simply, "And Kyle called me a few hours ago, before I started 'zis, and explained to me that you needed assistance into a building."

"Oh," Kenny shifted slightly and glanced at the living man's shovel, "You're not going to behead me are you?" He asked.

"No," Mole replied, "You are not entirely mindless." He straightened up again and started for the next grave, "Now, if you do not mind, I must be getting back to my work. We shall see each other later today when I come by."

Kenny nodded slowly, backing away before turning around and deciding that it was perhaps a bit too dangerous to hang about the cemetery at night. Kyle had told him that the Mole was a bit of a mental case when they were kids and Kenny really didn't want to see if the Frenchman grew out of it.

Once again homeless for the night, Kenny glanced at the sky and noted the lighter colors of sky blending into the dark. The sun was going to rise soon and the night was almost over. He figured he might as well go home, sneak in though, and hide out in his room for a while. And maybe clean up a little bit. If Stan and Kyle found out about his little mistake at the Goth's house, then he'll simply have to tackle that obstacle. And try to convince Stan that a bullet to the brain was the wrong thing to do. After all, Mole said he was 'not entirely mindless'.

Wait.

Was that a fucking insult?!


	7. Jamming, Plans, and Departure

_Disclaimer – I do not own South Park_

* * *

Kenny hung about outside of the small house until the streetlights flickered off and people started to walk the streets. He was pleased to find that the door was unlocked, probably in anticipation of his arrival, and he slipped in silently. He took his shoes off and neatly set them on the mat by Stan and Kyle's shoes and started for his room in hopes to change before either caught wind of what was going on. Unfortunately Stan was in the living room watching the news.

"Kenny?"

The undead blonde groaned and gave the raven haired man a pleading look, "Yeah?"

Stan studied him for a moment before glancing back at the television, which was covering a story about a possible grave robber since about twenty five plots were freshly buried. "You don't have anything to do with this do you?" He asked.

Relief washed over Kenny and he straightened up, "Dude, just because I'm not the liveliest guy around doesn't mean I want to hang around the same kind of people," He replied in a joking tone.

Stan chuckled slightly and Kenny quickly walked to his room, hastily changing into clean clothes before returning. He considered hiding outside with the dog or something before awkwardly sitting down next to Stan on the couch. The living man had changed the channel from the news to the music channel. They watched in silence and Kenny studied the playing videos, his nose wrinkling in distaste.

"Fuck," He started, "When did music and music videos get so…_bad_?"

"Mm, few months after you died, I think." Stan replied.

"Goddamn," Kenny stated, "I mean, _our_ music was bad but…is it fucking devolving?!"

"I'm pretty sure you can chart it using reverse Darwinism," The living man said, a grin crossing his face. Kenny looked at him, their eyes locking, and a grin slowly crept on his discolored face. Stan seemed to be on the same wavelength and he shifted, "You know…I still have my old recording stuff…and my guitar…"

"What are we still doing on this couch then?" Kenny asked.

Stan shot up to his feet and moved into the back of the house with Kenny in tow. They made their way into what appeared to be a little home office. Stan slid a chair over to the one near the computer and plucked his guitar from the corner of the room.

Neither of them realized that they were rekindling their friendship in some strange way. They put aside the fact that they were rivals for Kyle's love. It was almost a 'Bros before hos' agreement but the ho in the situation was also a bro. Not that they talked about this or thought about it. They were too busy jamming. Loudly.

They were also too busy jamming to hear the door slam closed.

They didn't notice that they were being watched either.

They actually realized someone was watching them right after singing 'Wham Bam, Thank You Ma'am' from David Bowie's Suffragette City.

At this point, Kenny was on his knees with the computer microphone, leaning backwards in a rather rock star-like pose. Stan was in his own power pose, consisting of one leg straight, the other bent in a lung like pose with the guitar on his knee. They would've continued their awesome jam session but there was a chuckle from the doorway and they both, in their rocking poses, glanced over to find the Mole and Kyle watching them in amusement. Kyle was covering his mouth to muffle the laughter while the Frenchman was openly amused.

The undead man and his living friend glanced at each other quickly, Stan's arm still raised in the air for further strumming action.

"This isn't what it looks like," He stated quickly.

Kyle gave a laugh, "So what?" He asked, "Are you two really having hot and sweaty sex?"

Stan and Kenny traded glances again, still not moving.

"Yes."

Kyle issued another laugh as the Mole gave a snort. Stan coughed slightly and straightened up, putting his guitar away, and Kenny flailed a hand for the living young man desperately. Stan raised an eyebrow curiously.

"Dude, help me out, I think Rigor Mortum or whatever it's called is setting in," Kenny stated. "And I'm hungry."

That seemed like a good enough excuse for Stan and he helped the zombie up from his awkward position, slowly because the blonde was having issues, and pushed him off into the hall, pausing momentarily to issue Kyle a kiss on the cheek and nodding to Mole. The Frenchman nodded back, leaning to mutter something to Kyle as Stan ushered the zombie into the kitchen and went to the fridge, finding something for Kenny to eat and practically tossing it to the blonde. They entered shortly after.

"When was the last time you ate?" He asked as Kenny took a juicy bit of hamburger meat.

"Uhm…" Kenny smacked his lips, causing Stan's face to turn into one of mild disgust, "Last night."

"Are you feeling less stiff?" Stan asked, leaning against the counter.

Kenny snorted, "Kinky," He grinned at Stan's annoyed look and chewed thoughtfully before twisting his body, noting that he was much more limber, "Nope. Probably could do backflips if I knew how." He replied cheerfully.

Stan glanced at Kyle, "I think he needs to eat every so often or else he freezes up," The black haired young man stated. "And…of course….to prevent rampages of death." Kenny tensed completely but nobody seemed to notice. Stan nodded over to Mole, "So dude, you're gonna help us get into the building?"

Whoa. Wait.

"Us?"

Kenny and Kyle glanced at each other, both fairly shocked that they'd said the same thing at the same exact time. Kyle quickly looked away, his cheeks pinking slightly and Stan shrugged, once again oblivious, "Yeah, I mean…he can't really do it alone, right?"

"He'll have Christophe," Kyle pointed out.

"Oui," Mole gave a short nod, "'Zings will go well 'ze less people 'zere are." He glanced at Kyle and then Stan, "But a distraction is needed so 'zat I can get Kenny into 'ze building."

Stan glanced at Kyle and they maintained eye contact for quite a while. Kenny idly thought that perhaps they had gotten so close they didn't need to converse but read each others minds and have a silent conversation. He quickly pushed that thought away because it simply hurt too much.

Finally Kyle sighed in defeat, his shoulders slumping, "Okay, we'll help. But if anything seems too dangerous, we pull out." Stan smiled and Kenny decided that he'd be appeased. If they were lucky, everything would go like when they were kids and the only one who'd really get injured is Kenny. And he was totally cool with that. "So," Kyle glanced around the kitchen, "When do we do this?"

"It will take a few days for me to get a 'old of 'ze schematics," Mole spoke up, playing with his lighter since Kyle probably wouldn't let him smoke in the house. "I will call when I 'ave 'zem and formulated a plan."

Kyle nodded, "Great, we'll wait for your call then."

"Oui," Mole looked at Kenny, his eyes cold and serious, "Stay out of sight. I do not want you wandering the streets and stirring suspicions like last night."

"Oh, like what you were doing wasn't suspicious," Kenny snapped back, narrowing his eyes.

"It was a preemptive strike."

"It was creepy!"

"Preemptive strike for what?" Kyle asked curiously, watching Kenny and Christophe glance at each other quickly before looking at him with some awkwardness.

"'E is a zombie-"

"Living impaired."

"And when 'zere is one, 'zere will be o'zers," the Frenchman explained coolly, "I was simply making sure 'zey couldn't rise."

"Wait," Stan straightened up, he flickered his slight glare at Kenny, who winced, and then to Mole, "You're telling me you're the suspected graverobber?"

"Oui, but I respect 'ze dead enough to not take 'zeir worthless sheet." The brunette replied gruffly, "I simply be'eaded them."

"That's not weird at all…" Stan mumbled sarcastically, earning a scolding look from Kyle. He coughed slightly and straightened, "So, how are you going to get schematics?"

"My partner will do it," Christophe replied shortly, "'E lives for 'zis kind of 'zing."

Kyle raised an eyebrow, "Helping zombies?"

"Living impaired, God-fucking-dammit!" Kenny snapped with a growl, "Dammit, Kyle, I'm about to go to your fucking Mom and get her to fight for my fucking rights!"

Kyle winced and Stan glared, "Dude, you're dead. You don't have rights."

"I'll eat you, Stan. Don't fucking test me."

Stan's glare intensified and Kenny let out a frustrated growl, clutching his head. He was exactly sure why he was getting so mad but he knew he had to calm down. It getting angry led to insane murderfests he wasn't going to do it around his friends and loved ones. Especially when there was a guy who had no problem with twisting his head around until it popped off.

"Kenny?" Kyle asked quietly, taking a step closer and resting a hand on the undead blonde's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Kenny jerked away.

He then made a noise of surprise as the collar of his shirt was grabbed and he was yanked towards the door, "I need to talk to 'ze zombie." Mole's voice ground out and he forced Kenny out the door before slamming him into the wall next to the door. "Listen, you," He started, his eyes locked with Kenny's dead blue, "'Zat boy in 'zere 'as been through sheet and 'ze last thing 'e needs is you making 'is life a fucking hell." He let go of Kenny, digging a cigarette from his pocket and lighting up, 'So 'zis is what we are going to do. You will live with me and leave Kyle Broflovski alone."

Kenny eyed him warily. The Frenchman was right of course, Kyle's sanity seemed to be deteriorating and Kenny was pretty sure it started when he had arrived at the nice little house's door. It would probably be good to just…stay away. Let Kyle be taken care of by Stan. That didn't stop the voice in the back of Kenny's mind growl and protest. The redhead was _his_, not Stan's. _Stan_ won't be able to take care of Kyle. _Stan_ can't keep Kyle happy forever.

Killing Stan wouldn't be that hard either.

No, wait…that's bad. Bad Kenny, bad. The blonde looked at the Frenchman tiredly; it was probably good if he stayed away for a little while. At least until he got his little…dead problem fixed and could whisk Kyle away to a land of euphoric sex and happiness. Yes. That was the plan. He'll just ignore the voice until then.

"You're not going to come onto me, are you?"

Mole raised an eyebrow, "'Zat is sick." He replied shortly, "And you are not my type."

Kenny regarded him curiously, idly wondering what his type was. "Ah, ladies man?" He asked.

"Women are all lying whores who try to cheat out life and nature herself," He replied shortly before taking a long and irritated drag of his cigarette. "Get your 'zings together and tell 'zem you are leaving."

Kenny moved for the door and hesitated, "You're not going to kill me, are you?" he asked suspiciously.

"If I was going to kill you, I would have done it in 'ze cemetery. It would 'ave been more convenient."

"Oh," Kenny entered the house and walked straight to his room, ignoring Stan and Kyle's hushed voices. He grabbed the paper bags that he used to hold his clothes and walked back into the rooms, peering into the kitchen. Kyle looked upset and mentally exhausted, sitting at the table he glanced up at Kenny. Stan was standing next to him, straightening up from his leaning position and eyeing the blonde's bags curiously. Kenny tried to smile weakly but couldn't, keeping his eyes locked with Kyle, "Thanks…for the clothes and stuff," He started quietly, "I'm…gonna stay with the Mole since….well…I think I mentally fucked you over, Kyle." He shifted, glancing at Stan and then Kyle again with a look of determination, "I'm going to come back for you though."

Without another word, Kenny tugged on his shoes and left the small house that held the love of his life with the intimidating Frenchman.


	8. Cleaning, Food, and Remorse

_Disclaimer – I do not own South Park_

_I keep getting inspired and starting new stories so then I forget about the ones I'm already working on! And then I get writers block. I'm a bad bear! I'm a bad old bear!_

* * *

Christophe's apartment was, to put it nicely, a shithole.

It was the complete opposite of the nice little house Kyle had welcomed him into. There was no love flowing threw the all, no sense of security or airborne vibes that made him feel he was part of a family, which was something he realized he had with Stan and Kyle. He realized this, of course, as soon as he stepped into the apartment.

It was dark due to the fact that the French mercenary didn't seem to like changing light bulbs. Every room smelled strongly of smoke and when Kenny peeked into the kitchen, there were only instant foods. The cabinets consisted of bulk supplies of paper plates, plastic cups, napkins and plastic utensils. One cupboard was entirely devoted to sporks. The couch in the living room wasn't a couch at all but a futon mattress folded against the wall into a couch-like position and a crate served as a coffee table. The television sat on a dusty old trunk and when Kenny checked, he wasn't shocked to discover that the device was so old; it didn't have ports for RCA cables. The bathroom was rank, smelling intensely of wet towel and the zombie was pretty sure there was mold growing in the corner. He was forbidden to go into Christophe's room.

All in all, Kenny concluded that the apartment wasn't really lived in. He figured the Mole only stayed here when he absolutely had to. Especially since the Frenchman had just left, fairly eagerly, on a meat run. The zombie was at first unsure of what to do. He tried to watch TV but had no focus and there wasn't much else to do in Christophe's apartment.

Except to clean.

The first thing to happen was that Kenny had cleaned the windows and dusted the blinds. The apartment looked bigger and more comfortable with some natural light. He then continued his dusting and wiping anything that was glass or had some sort of screen. The dust on the television alone was disgusting.

He was in the middle of scrubbing down the bathtub when Mole returned with a loud, "What ze fuck?!"

Kenny peeked out of the bathroom with a large grin, "Looks better when you open up some windows and maintain it, dontcha think?" He asked.

The Frenchman growled, quickly flicking the blinds closed quickly and cautiously before stalking over to Kenny, grabbing the zombie by the collar and pressing him against the wall with an intense glare, "Do you fucking _want_ to die?!" he snapped.

Kenny stared at him with large eyes. Stan might've actually hesitated if he was going to kill Kenny, but this guy would probably do it without a second though. "No."

"Fucking idiot," Mole hissed, "First you kill those people and burn their 'ouse and now this…someone could 'ave seen you and I am _not_ getting in trouble with the law again. Not for you! Not for anyone!"

"Whoa, okay, calm down, dude. You're tripping balls." Kenny gently put his hands on Mole's chest and pushed the Frenchman off.

The brunette sighed and lit up a cigarette, looking wary, "I 'ave enemies, Kenny." He stated. "Keep 'ze blinds closed."

"Yeah…sure thing."

The Mole shifted awkwardly, starting to turn before mumbling, "And…good job cleaning." He then stalked back into the living room and turned abruptly into the kitchen.

A grin spread across Kenny's face as he made his way to the same room, watching as the Mole stuffed packages of meat into the refrigerator. "Did you buy out the store?" He asked in amusement as the mole started adding bottled waters into the door of the fridge.

"I'd rather you not have an attack under my watch."

Kenny scowled as the living man tossed a package of ground beef at him and he worked it open. Leaning against the counter he took a bite and grumbled slightly. Human tasted way better. "So…how did you know about the house?"

Mole took a drag, standing up and shutting the door to the appliance before him, "You reeked of death and ash." He replied, "You smelled exactly like hell." Kenny paused mid-bite and eyed the Frenchman, his brow furrowing. Cautiously, he swallowed and licked his lips, knowing that some meat juices were probably dripping off his chin. "You still smell like it, faintly." There was an awkward silence before the Mole straightened and stepped closer, studying the zombie, "I 'ave a job tonight. I must kill several men. I trust you can 'elp me dispose of the bodies?"

Kenny stared dumbly and nearly dropped his meal. This guy was promising him food. Human food. Brains and flesh and organs. This was something Stan and Kyle would not stand for. They had morals and they weren't going to give them up just because Kenny was hungry and raw cow meat was bland tasting and didn't squirt juices as delightfully as human meat. Kenny was pretty sure if he were under the same circumstances except alive right now, he would be aroused.

"Wait, so you're asking me to be an accomplice in the crime of murder?" He asked in surprise. "And return, I get fed…and not this cow shit?"

"Oui."

Kenny stared dumbly again, wondering how on earth this guy knew what he wanted. What he truly wanted. Well, not truly. What he truly wanted was to be alive and with Kyle again, but that was going to apparently take time. This was a close second though. The point was, Mole was fucking awesome.

"You're fucking awesome, dude."

Christophe smirked, "I am aware. Now I am going to rest until 'ze mission. Do not wake me or I will remove your 'ead."

Kenny nodded, opting for chewing on his meat as the Frenchman passed by and disappeared into the hall. The zombie finished his meal and washed up after throwing the packaging away. He then resumed with cleaning the bathroom, which took more time than he thought it would because Mole had come in, ordering him out in order to use the toilet, five hours later.

When he came out, he ordered Kenny to put his shoes on and they left the apartment, entering an unmarked van. They didn't see the face of the driver as the van rumbled down the road. Kenny didn't dare to say anything due to the seriousness of the situation and the warning looks the Mole was flashing him. After what felt like hours, the van halted and the Frenchman looked at his undead companion.

"Stay until I come for you." And then he disappeared out of the vehicle.

Kenny groaned and looked at the mysterious driver a few minutes after the Mole left. "Wanna play 'I spy'?"

"No."

Kenny resorted to moping about the back of the van, giving long suffering sighs that made the driver wince in annoyance every time. The driver was about to comment on gruffly when the sliding door of the van opened and the Mole stuck his head in. His eyes were gleaming and he had a mad look on his face. It was obvious adrenaline was pumping through his veins and he seemed to be experiencing the thrill of the kill.

"It's your turn," He practically purred.

Kenny clambered out of the van and followed the Mole into a large house. There were already three other men in there, scrubbing off blood stains expertly. They didn't look at the zombie as the Frenchman led him into what appeared to be the living room and gestured to the neat row of corpses on a large blue tarp.

If Kenny were breathing, he would've stopped.

A man, woman and two young children, two little girls who looked no older than eight, lay facing up. Their empty eyes stared at the ceiling as blood covered their naked bodies. The fireplace was going and Kenny assumed their clothes were being destroyed. He glanced over at Mole, who was smoking and had seemed to have gotten off of his high. He looked exhausted but to Kenny, he looked more like a monster than the blonde would ever be.

And he was living with this man.

He glanced at Kenny, his eyes empty of feeling as he took a drag, "Despite being called a mercenary, 'zere is no such 'zing as mercy," He then turned to leave the room, "I would fill up if I were you, we will burn 'ze remains."

Kenny was left alone with the corpses and he numbly walked over to the bodies of the little girls. Sweet little innocent girls that probably liked jumping ropes and making lists and whatever was equivalent to the Jonas Brothers these days. He felt like he could throw up, he wanted to cry but instead he stroked their hair and closed their eyes, even going as far as saying a prayer, fumbling with it in his mind since he never cared for religion after his four hundred and fifty-seventh time in Hell.

He crawled to the adults, the ones who probably fucked things over so much that their daughters were dead. When he was a kid, he constantly agreed with Stan, Kyle and Cartman that adults were idiots. Anyone who could be manipulated by an eight year old or do something so irrational and illogical that his son had to fix the problem or else the whole town was fucked shouldn't be running things. That much was clear and expressed constantly by the children of South Park, but when given the chance, they too had fucked the town over when adults were gone. Kenny had died due to sacrifice.

Pushing down his feelings and emptying his mind. Kenny gave into his primal thoughts and felt his fingers tear into flesh and dig until an organ, something vital but he wasn't sure what, was in his hand. It was still warm and the blood made it sticky to his fingers, the scent assailing his nose. He felt his mind shut of completely as his teeth sunk into the tender flesh.

He was full when he seemed to wake up completely, sitting on the porch in front of the house with the Mole and curled in the fetal position.

"You left 'ze children."

"They didn't deserve me desecrating their corpses." He replied, his voice husky and coarse.

Mole was silent a long moment before rubbing out his cigarette and standing up. "You are a good man." He stated quietly before walking towards the waiting van. "Come. Let us go so you can clean up."

Kenny warily stood up and followed the brunette to the van. They got in and it rumbled down the road in the direction they came from. Kenny couldn't wait to get a shower but curiousity pulled at him and he glanced at the Frenchman.

"Mole?"

"Mmm?"

"How do I smell?"

There was a moment of hesitation before the answer. "Like Hell."

* * *

_Ugh! Ew, this chapter is shoooort! Gross!_


	9. Video Games, PowerPoints, and Guns

_Disclaimer – I do not own South Park_

* * *

The next couple of days past without hassle. Kenny hung around the apartment, moping about being bored until the Mole brought a GameSphere and an armload of games to shut the zombie up. Kenny was filled with glee until he discovered that every single game was a zombie killing game. The Frenchman disappeared after a nice cussing out from his houseguest and Kenny hadn't seen much of him since.

Not that he was complaining of course.

It felt a bit weird, shooting those who were the almost the same as him, except that he could control himself and communicate. Every time one uttered a pained sound and lunged at his character he couldn't help but feel like he was shooting himself. His brains were splattering all over the halls of the abandoned hospital. It made him think a lot about his current condition.

Was he going to be persecuted for his crimes? He'd never committed murder before.

What if his soul was decaying? Perhaps every time he blacked out and lost control he piece of his soul withered away.

Shit, he was fucked if that was the case.

Thankfully it was Friday the thirteenth, meaning that in an hour he had to be at the docks to meet Pip and whoever the hell was leaving him the creepy notes. He'd found one earlier in the day, taped onto the package of meat he was eyeing earlier that day but it was just a reminder about the meeting. Mole was exiting the apartment at the time and didn't ask any questions but lit his cigarette with the fire.

Kenny glanced at the clock and saved his game, anticipation welling up. What if they could help Kenny, despite the disturbing notes? He and Kyle could be together then.

God, he fucking missed Kyle.

Tugging on his shoes, Kenny left the apartment and ran down the steps of the building, skipping a few ever now and then. He jogged down the street for several blocks before ducking into an alley when he found a young man nearing. He wrinkled his nose at the garbage piled around him.

"Loo loo loo, I've got some apples…"

Perking at the familiar song, Kenny made a tentative step so he could better press against the wall when the young man began passing by. Unfortunately, he stepped onto a banana peel and slipped; his leg flying up into the hair. Kenny was sure he'dve cracked his skull open, and probably killed himself, if he weren't caught by the large garbage bags behind him. There was a soft gasp and the young man stared down at him with a look of concern.

"Gee, are you okay?" He asked, offering his hand.

Kenny frowned and ignored the hand, standing up on his own. "I'm fine. Just clumsy," He muttered before glancing into cerulean eyes.

Butters Stotch gave another gasp, this one of fear, and pressed against the wall, covering his mouth. "K-Kenny?"

"Yes?"

"I thought you were….you're still…..wh-….oh hamburgers!"

Kenny watched curiously as the boy's eyes rolled back into his head and his body sagged. Kenny caught him before he collapsed of course but wasn't really sure what to do. Butters, most likely, blamed himself for Kenny's death and had been feeling that guilt every day for the past years. He was just that kind of person.

Kenny, of course, didn't hold Butters at fault since he would've died eventually.

Holding him closely, and thanking the fates that Butters was light, Kenny looked back and forth in the dark before briskly walking across the street. He'd wasted enough time with Butters that if he'd be late if he tried to deposit the unconscious young man somewhere safe. So, of course, Kenny did the only thing that made sense to him.

No, he didn't eat Butters. That was the second thing to make sense.

He took Butters with him, running and wondering how he could carry the other man and run at the same time with such ease. He figured since he didn't have to catch his breath, he didn't have to suffer the pains normal people did. He reached the docks at exactly thirteen until Midnight and wandered slowly before hearing a soft gasp at his right. Abruptly, Kenny turned to see who made the noise while holding Butters protectively.

Pip ran out of the darkness staring in horror at Butters before glaring at the zombie holding him, "What did you do to Butters?!" He demanded.

Kenny stared in shock before absently registering that Butters and Pip were sorta kinda friends in their own weird way before Butters became more noticed. He idly remembered when Stan told him about the party his parents attended and he was trapped in the basement with Butters, Pip and that Dougie kid.

"He…sorta…"

Pip inspected the unconscious blonde and sighed in relief to find no bites or scratches of any kind and that a pulse existed. "You aren't going to eat him." Pip ordered.

"I wasn't going to in the first place!" Kenny argued, "He just…spazzed and fainted when he saw me and I didn't know what to do with him!"

Pip 'harrumphed' and snatched Butters from Kenny's grasp, gently lying the blonde on a tarp covered pallet that was well hidden before glaring at Kenny again, apparently not believing the undead man's story, "Yes, well, he's a running a little behind schedule but I doubt you have anywhere else to be…"

Kenny glared back, a low growl rumbling in his throat and he yelped when a smack was issued to the back of his rear. He turned to look at his offender and blinked in surprise.

A young man who looked the same age looked at him with an unamused expression. His black hair was untamed and his eyebrows were thick. He wore an expensive black business suit and his hand was on his hip, which was cocked to the side. At first Kenny thought his eyes were pitch black but with a harder look he noticed that they seemed to have a literal fire in them. He looked away when he realized this because it was scarier than shit.

He knew this young man. How could he not when he had helped the man's father with his relationship troubles and had gone to hell countless times?

"I assure you, the next time you growl at my man; the strike will be at your head and far less controlled." Damien stated coldly, not that his voice could hold warmth. Or a low pitch.

Kenny quickly glanced at Pip, who looked both smug and delighted to see Damien. The antichrist sauntered over to the British young man, pausing to whisper something in Pip's ear. Kenny noted the pleased blush and how close Damien's lips were to Pip's ear but he didn't comment. Instead he cleared his throat and settled a glare on Damien, "So you're the one sending me the scary ass notes?"

"Yes," Damien stated proudly and dramatically, "It was I! And now, I have something to show you!" He snapped his fingers and Pip scrambled into the darkness, tugging out a white screen, projector and remote. Pip handed the remote to Damien and quickly got out of the hellion's way. Damien pushed a button, opening a black image with red lettering that said 'Your Gifts and How You Can Put Them to Use'.

Kenny raised an eyebrow, "A PowerPoint presentation?" He asked incredulously.

"Yes, now shut up and pay attention."

Pip swerved out of nowhere and shoved Kenny into a chair that seemed to appear out of thin air before jumping onto a crate and watching Damien with great interest. The antichrist smirked at the British blonde, a mischievous glint in his eye and Pip merely giggled and blushed. Damien then straightened and pushed the button on the remote, a new slide appearing with overused animations and the words 'Understanding Who You Are' swirled onto the screen excitedly. Apparently Hell had just discovered PowerPoint and they were eager to use it.

"You, Mr. McCormick, are a zombie," Damien glared a glare that dared Kenny to just try and correct him, "You eat flesh, revert to humanities more animalistic stages and you have the ability to infect others if you so choose, making them zombies as well. But you are not like the zombies in human films," He added, "You show mercy, you think before you act, and you pass judgment on those you eat."

The next slide rolled up, revealing the words 'How Does This Make You Special?' with the picture of a demon shrugged and holding a confused expression."Because of your advancement over all other walking dead, you can take orders and give orders. And that is what we need you for, McCormick!" Damien stated dramatically and proudly.

Kenny crossed his arms over his chest and looked disinterested.

'How Can You Contribute?' was what the next slide read and Damien leaned towards Kenny with an intent look. "I want you to create an army of the Undead, Mr. McCormick. I want you to lead them in an all out war against the living. Bite everyone in sight and make them like you."

Kenny stared in shock, "But…"

"Questions when the presentation is over." Pip snapped, earning a smirk from Damien.

The next slide sparkled with the words 'What Do You Get?' and Damien strode back to stand beside the screen. "Anything you wish, Mr. McCormick. Whatever your undead heart desires, within reason of course, such as that saucy little redhead named Kyle. We can make him yours again, as long as you agree."

If Kenny's heart could beat, it would've stopped at that.

Satisfied with this reaction, Damien pushed the button on the remote and the next slide rolled up with the words 'Any Questions?' and a smirk played on Damien's lips, "Any questions, Mr. McCormick?"

Kenny opened his mouth but words couldn't come out. Damien was asking him to wage a war on Earth in the name of Hell. He wasn't actually considering this, was he? After all, he had Kyle to think about and it was too much of a risk. Kyle could either die or end up some mindless zombie. Either way, he'd hate Kenny for the whole thing, but…the thought of having Kyle…Hell didn't back off on their promises. They kept them, that's why not only they were known for eternal damnation but they were awesome in business. Every CEO who'd met success had sold his soul.

Wait…what if…

"If I bite someone," Kenny started, his voice wavering, "Would they be aware, like me? Or some mindless dumbass like in the movies?"

"Excellent question," Damien's high voice chimed before he snapped his fingers.

Pip leapt off his crate, taking the screen and projector with remote back into the darkness and running back, merely seconds later with an easel, large presentation boards and a pointer stick. He neatly put the boards on the easel, the first containing a pie chart and offered it to Damien. The hellion accepted the pointer, whipping the British man's rear as he walked by.

Pip gave a started yelp, casting a slightly grinning look at Damien and Kenny shuddered. God, they were weird.

Damien cleared his throat again, his mind moving back on where it should be and pointed to the pie chart. The majority of it was red and less than a fourth was blue, "We're estimating that there's a nineteen percent your victim will become as aware as you are." He stated. "But we're always willing to do an actual test."

"No."

Damien raised an eyebrow, "Why not?" He asked curiously.

"I don't know what the fuck I was thinking," The undead blonde mumbled, standing up from the chair, "I'm not going to sentence someone to _this_! This is worse than death! Its like I'm being teased, I can't have either."

"Actually…"

"I'm not going to die." Kenny growled. "Now thank you for your offer, but no thank you and I don't want Butters waking up and thinking I raped him or something." He turned to move but the next thing he knew, he was staring deeply into Damien's fiery eyes.

The antichrist flicked a card out from midair and placed it in Kenny's palm, wrapping the zombie's fingers around it, "Just in case you change your mind," He stated, his dark eyes flickering.

Kenny hesitated before sticking the card in his back pocket and brushing past the dark man. He ignored Pip's delighted giggles as he returned to Butters' side, the blonde still unconscious, most likely asleep now. He picked up his former classmate, heaving a wary sigh and started walking back towards town.

At first he had no idea where to take Butters. He doubted the blonde lived with his parents anymore and he didn't care for the Stotch's enough to return their son to them. They tended to overreact, which generally led to making Butters' life hell.

Kenny then quickly settled on the only place that was warm and welcoming with understanding people.

Kyle's house was still looked cozy and welcoming in the middle of the night, and he frowned that the living room was still lit, meaning someone was up. On the bright side, Kenny wasn't going to have to sneak Butters in and leave a note of explanation. On the darker side of the situation, he'd have to deal with whoever was up.

Damn.

He approached the door and kicked in hopes of making a loud enough knock. The faint sound of the television on the other side of the door silenced and Kenny tensed as footsteps were heard and the door cautiously creaked open. Kyle stared at him with tired eyes, looking surprised and slightly pained, before his eyes drifted down to Butters.

"He saw me and fainted." Kenny stated quietly.

Kyle nodded, waving him inside and gestured for him to lay the blonde onto the couch. Kenny did so before awkwardly looking at Kyle, whose arms were wrapped around his thin frame. The need to comfort the redhead was overwhelming but Kenny, once again, restrained himself.

"I…ought to go…" He mumbled, heading for the door.

Kyle followed him and he awkwardly turned to the redhead to say goodbye but a gun barrel stared at him instead of green eyes.


	10. Tears, Walks, and Wedgies

_Disclaimer – I do not own South Park_

_I'm making a goal/promise. Right here, right now. I will update a story or post something EVERY. DAY. Until I get a job. And except on the weekends. That's right. I'm sending the memo to the creative part of my brain. Bring it brain, bring it._

* * *

"He didn't bite Butters, did he?"

Kenny's eyes flickered from the threatening gun barrel to Kyle, who was staring at Stan in complete and absolute shock. Stan kept his eyes locked completely on Kenny, his eyes dark. Panic and fear hit Kenny like a brick.

"KYLE."

Kyle gasped as Stan raised his voice, "N-No, Stan, he didn't. What the fuck are you doing!? Put that gun down!"

"He killed people, Kyle." Stan was glaring at Kenny intensely still but his voice was cracking with emotion as he spoke, tears were threatening break out of his angry look. "He killed innocent people." Kyle gasped quietly as Stan's tears broke out, "What did you have against my friends, Kenny? What encouraged you to…"

Kenny put his hands up, pushing down the instincts that screamed for him to protect himself. It was to eat or be eaten, they were screaming violently. "You're talking about that Goth guy, aren't you?" He asked cautiously, wincing when Stan gave a short nod in confirmation, "Stan, I'm sorry. H-He kissed me and I-"

"He _kissed_ you?"

Kenny nodded at Kyle's incredulous question and the redhead looked at his living lover, "It's not his fault then, Stan."

"_What_?!"

Kyle gently pressed Stan's arm down, removing the gun's barrel from Kenny's direction as he spoke to the raven haired man gently. "You told me that he told you that if Kenny got too emotional, too angry or upset, then he'd revert to his animalistic instincts, correct?" Stan nodded slowly, "Well, think about it."

Stan looked closer to an emotional breakdown by the second, "But Kyle," His voice was cracking and full of tears, "He ate my friends."

Kyle's face softened immediately as he wrapped his arms around his living lover, "I know, Stan. But it wasn't him." He replied softly.

Kenny watched in awe as Stan gave a soft whimper and dropped the gun, wrapping his arms around Kyle and burying his face in the redhead's neck instead. He winced and braced himself as the gun hit the floor, expecting it to fire and hit him. Nothing happened but part of him wished it. He couldn't feel physically, his nerves were pretty much dead. The most he could do was register the feeling of being touched and that was just barely. Emotionally though, he felt as though he was being torn apart. Which he, in fact, was. He wanted Kyle happy, and Kyle was with Stan. Stan gave him the love and attention that the redheaded needed and deserved. On the other hand, Kyle was his. There was a primal urge that commanded Kenny to take what was his and kill his competition, no questions asked. He could so easily tear Stan's throat out or strangle him with his own intestines. And those thoughts scared the shit out of Kenny.

He glanced back down at the gun, considerations whirring through his head. It would be so simple too. His dull eyes flickered up to Kyle and Stan, noting that they were too much into taking comfort from one another to notice him kneel down and silently pick up the gun. He watched them carefully, happy to find that they were still distracted, and held the gun barrel up to his own head.

He closed his eyes, an overwhelming sense of freedom filling him as his finger twitched eagerly to squeeze the trigger.

And then the piercing pain shot through his brain.

The gun dropped to the floor with a clatter as Kenny gripped his head, screaming in pain. He faintly registered Butters screaming in surprise and hands on his shoulders. He whimpered as the pain continued and he shoved at the person, stumbling back through the open door and landing on his rear. The pain receded and he looked up at Kyle, who was staring at him in shock and worry, Stan was nowhere to be found. His hand were shaking as he stared back into the green eyes he loved so much and Kyle advanced cautiously, casting a quick look at the gun on the ground before looking incredulous.

"Did….Were you going _kill_ yourself?"

Kenny looked at Kyle warily, still holding his head and wondering what the hell had just happened to him, "I'm already dead, Kyle." He replied, his voice cracking.

Kyle fell to his knees in front of Kenny and pulled the undead blonde into his arms. Kenny struggled at first but Kyle's grip stayed strong and finally the zombie relented, burying his head in the crook of Kyle's neck as the redhead gently stroked his hair.

The small thought of biting Kyle passed through his mind. It was so simple, so easy. He could easily do it right now and the redhead would be his forever and for sure. Then they could both eat Stan and live happily ever after. But he couldn't bring himself to do it though and merely pressed his lips against Kyle's neck.

He gave a small whimpered laugh, "God, we are so gay." He muttered without moving his face away.

A small shiver shot through Kyle's body as he laughed softly, "Completely and absolutely." He agreed.

"We've been gayer though."

"I don't recall us holding each other near tears," Kyle replied in amusement.

"I don't recall me attempting to shoot myself either," Kenny replied softly.

They stayed in silence, Kyle holding Kenny and Kenny holding on to Kyle tightly, as if he would fade away if he let go. Eventually Kyle gently pushed Kenny away, planting his lips against the zombie's forehead for a second before standing up completely and holding out a finger to Kenny.

"Stay." He ordered before turning and walking back into the house. Kenny watched curiously and nervously as the door closed and after a few minutes, Kyle returned with his shoes and jacket on, tugging his old green hat securely onto his head before giving Kenny a reassuring smile. He held out a hand for Kenny, which the undead man took and Kyle helped him up. "Come on, I'll walk you to Mole's."

Kenny nodded slowly, feeling a bit down that he had to return to the dark lonely apartment. Of course, the fact that Kyle was walking him to his little hell was a bit more reassuring, especially since he could probably convince the redhead to keep him company for a little bit. That would certainly make things better.

Once they were down the street and out of the sweet little house's sight, Kyle's hand brushed against Kenny's. The redhead's fingers dangled between the paler ones and quickly latched.

Kenny glanced quickly at their hands and then at Kyle, who was staring straight forward. "I love Stan," He stated boldly, "He's taken care of me after you died and I love him." Kyle's dark green eyes flickered to meet Kenny's and the zombie quickly looked away, "But…I don't feel what I felt…feel…." Kyle had a momentarily struggle with words but quickly regained his composure, "Kenny, I want to be with you, I really do but…"

Kenny squeezed Kyle's hand in support, "Because of obvious reasons, you can't." He stated.

"What if you come back?" Kyle asked, looking at Kenny with a desperate expression, "If you find some way to be completely alive again?"

Kenny returned Kyle's desperate expression with a pained one. He really didn't want to have this conversation after the night he had. He already made Stan cry once and he really didn't want to give his childhood friend more incentive to kill him. Also, the whole meeting with Damien was still reeling in his mind. He couldn't help but wonder about the possibilities of leadership, acceptance and, more importantly, Kyle.

He struggled to find the right words but failed and just decided to wing it, "Kyle…we'll…we'll figure it out when it happens, okay? I've got a lot on my plate right now."

Kyle's expression made him instantly regret that last part, "Kenny, ever since you came back I've been wracking my brain, trying to figure out my feelings. The person I fell in love with a long time ago is a walking corpse and I'm now in a relationship with my lifelong best friend. The choice I made is going to result in risking my friendship with Stan and I don't even know if I'm going to get to that point! So tell, Kenny, what's on _your_ plate?"

Kenny stared at Kyle in mild surprise. He was mad? What the fuck gave him the right to be mad about this?!

The undead blonde jerked his hand out of the redhead's grip, turning to glare, and "Okay, you want to know what's on my plate?" He asked, "I'll tell you. I wake up in my coffin. _Inside_ my coffin, yeah, and I have to dig myself out. Then I watch a man commit suicide and have a black out before managing to find out where you live. And once I do, I find out it has been four years and you're living with _Stan_." Kyle straightened up, narrowing his eyes slightly, "Stan, in turn, is an ass to me. Yeah, I sorta get it but still! Oh. And then he introduces me to his friend, who is totally into necrophilia and totally got me into craving human flesh moreso than bovine. Now I live with a mercenary who took me on a trip to eat his assassinations and I don't doubt he'll offer it again, I'm being stalked by demons from hell and I've had a fucking _wedgie_ for the past twenty minutes!"

"You…have a what?" Kyle stammered, looking rather thrown off.

"That's right, Kyle," Kenny said, completely serious, "I have a wedgie. It is seriously riding up my ass."

"Then…why don't you dig it out?" Kyle asked, still looking unsure.

Kenny smirked, "See, I'm in the wooing stages with you…I think….and I'm trying to old off on my bad habits until I have you trapped into commitment before you realize that they exist." He ended his explanation with a wink before making a show of freeing his bum from suffocation.

Kyle sputtered out a forced laugh and shook his head when Kenny offered his hand again. "I'm not touching your wedgie hand, dude."

Kenny grinned back, relieved that his little attempt worked and starting walking, Kyle quickly falling in step with him. "Your loss."

They walked in silence for a few blocks before Kyle tentatively looked at the blonde, "You really like human better?" He asked cautiously.

"It's like crack to me."

"That's serious," Kyle mused.

Thankfully, he didn't ask about anything else and they ascended the stairs to Mole's apartment building. The door was left unlocked, something Kenny thanked God for. If the Frenchman had discovered that his front door was unlocked for a few hours in the middle of the night, he'd go ballistic. And Kenny doubted it would be ask gentle as when he warned Kenny about the windows.

Kenny turned to face Kyle, door an inch open and his hand on the knob, "Do you want to come in for coffee or something?" He asked, "I promise it won't lead to sex."

Kyle gave a soft laugh, cupping Kenny's unstitched cheek in his hand and offering a fond smile, "Thanks, but no thanks." He replied, "Stan's home alone with a freaking out Butters."

Kenny nodded in understanding, "Sorry about that."

"It's fine. We'll deal." He stated with amusement still in his voice, before leaning forward and brushing his lips lightly against Kenny's. "I'll see you soon?"

Kenny smiled broadly and nodded, "Totally." Kyle turned to leave but Kenny grabbed his wrist. Green eyes met his dull blue, "One thing though, Kyle."

Kyle's smile fell into a frown at the seriousness in Kenny's voice, "Yeah?"

"Don't break the news to Stan."

Furrowing his brow, Kyle could only nod in understanding. Kenny let go of his wrist and watched him move down the stairs before opening the door thoroughly and walking into the dark apartment. He gasped quietly when he met the site of Christophe in the dull blue glow of the television, cigarette hanging out of his mouth and his thumbs quickly moved over the remote control.

"Sheet, 'zis is addictive." He growled, glancing at Kenny for a split second, "I don't see 'ow you can leave 'zese games."

"It's a bit easier when you're killing something you are," Kenny gave a small unsure laugh as he pulled off his shoes and set them next to the Mole's boots before moving to sit down next to the brunette. "I never thought of you as one to play video games," He stated as he picked up the second controller, why Mole got a second one, he wasn't sure, and joined the battle against zombies.

The Frenchman grunted, "It was still on when I came in and I grew curious." Kenny made a noise of understanding as he blew off a zombie mutant's head, thus saving the man next to him, "I 'ave 'ze blueprints," Mole informed as they continued their absorbed game play, "We go on Monday."

Kenny glanced at Mole at the wrong time because his player was soon torn limb from limb and eaten as a zombie prostitute humped his now disfigured torso. "Fan-fucking-tastic."

* * *

_This chapter is so serious it makes me want to gouge my eyes out!_


	11. Food, Threats, and Dreams

_Disclaimer – I do not own South Park_

_I have a __**very important poll**__ on my main page. It would be super nice if my readers would go vote on it. Details about it are also on the profile page. _

_I didn't update like according to plan because my little brother was ill (twasn't the most annoying flu in the world, promise), and he's a little attention whore. So my goal suffered. And now I'M not feeling up to par._

* * *

Kenny McCormick stared in mild shock as Kyle smiled brightly at him and Stan kept looking cautiously up and down the hall of the building. He also looked rather nauseous. Both held a couple of garbage bags in their hands and Kyle held one out for Kenny to take.

Cautiously, the undead blonde peeked into the bag before giving Kyle a confused look, "These are body parts." He stated. "Human body parts."

"Well Stan _does_ work as a mortician," Kyle replied with a small shrug and a smirk. "They just had some unclaimed bodies lying around."

"They were homeless," the other man corrected, sounding as though he'd rather not work in a lost and found for dead people, "Just don't eat any in front of us." Stan groaned, already looking like he was going to vomit.

Kenny laughed, still a bit surprised at what had just happened, "I'll try to contain myself," He assured, Stan, who didn't seem too thrilled with his answer. He stepped aside and gestured into the apartment, "Come on in. Mole's taking a shower or in his room or God knows what right now so…"

Kyle and Stan entered both looking around curiously and for a quick moment, Kenny wondered if inviting them in was okay. Then he decided to just fuck it and leave the matter be, if his French roommate had a problem, they'd work it out with some video games. Christophe was pretty addicted, actually, and their current game was on pause while he freshened up.

"It's….nice," Kyle complimented carefully.

Kenny gave a shrug and gestured for them to just drop the bags on the floor by the wall, something they did quickly, "It's cozy I guess," He allowed. "Want anything to drink? All we have is water…and maybe coffee."

They both politely declined and Kyle offered a small smile and wave, causing Kenny to turn around and come face to face to the Mole. There was no emotion in his expression and he gave a small nod in greeting before entering the kitchen, looking over the counter at his two guests, "'Vat brings you 'ere?" He asked, sounding like he was trying to be polite but failing miserably. He still sounded threatening.

That was probably just the only way he knew how to talk.

"We figured we should bring Kenny some food," Kyle replied casually, "It wouldn't be fair to put him in your hands and expect you to do _everything_, right?"

Kenny winced slightly; Kyle's words making him feel like a child or pet.

Stan and Kyle didn't notice but the undead blonde and the mercenary housing him shared a brief moment of eye contact before Christophe nodded slowly, "'E is no trouble. Actually very enjoyable." The Mole commented, "So eet is my pleasure."

Kyle flashed Kenny an amused grin and the blonde weakly returned it, reminding himself to thank the mercenary later. The thought of Christophe telling the truth was appealing but Kenny had no clue if he was lying or not. Kenny did, afterall, make the Mole's living in this apartment a bit more of a risk.

Kyle took a comfortable seat on the lumpy sofa mattress, tugging a still queasy looking Stan with him, before smiling brightly at Kenny, who decided to just linger by the counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of the living room. "So," He started, "Do you have a day set for we go break into the company?"

The Mole nodded, "Oui," He replied, opening his mouth to inform Kyle of the date.

"Wednesday."

Kenny didn't look at Christophe but he knew the Frenchman was giving him a curious and questioning look. Kyle didn't seem to notice as he nodded slowly and offered another smile, forcing a twinge of guilt to hit the undead blonde. Kenny didn't want to lie to Kyle but he didn't want Kyle to get hurt. Yes, they've had wild adventures in their past where Kenny was the one to generally die, but now he was undead, the living impaired, and if there was going to be a death, there was a chance that it wouldn't be him for once. He didn't want to risk that.

He'd hate it if Christophe got hurt of course, but the guy was trained for this kind of thing. The Mole had died before and continued being a mercenary; he was obviously willing to die again.

"Wednesday sounds good," Kyle replied, "When should we come over?"

There was a moment of hesitation before Mole answered, "Six," He stated, "Before 'ze sun sets and we can get situated."

"We'll be here." Kyle replied before standing up, "Mind if I use your bathroom?"

"Down 'ze hall, 'ze open door."

Kyle nodded and excused himself. As soon as they heard the door click, Stan's gaze flickered over to Kenny, queasiness gone and completely serious. "Can I talk to you?" He asked.

Kenny nodded shortly, feeling a moment of queasiness as the raven haired man stood up and held the front door open. Kenny pulled his hood up, shooting the Mole a helpless fleeting glance before slipping out the front door. Nobody was in the cold, concrete hall as Stan quietly closed the door behind him, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest.

Kenny shifted from one foot to the other uneasily, "So…what's up?" He asked, trying to sound light-hearted.

"Are you really going to let Kyle go on this false hope?" Stan asked, his eyes narrowed.

Kenny shifted again uneasily, "I don't know what you're talking about, Stan," He lied weakly.

Stan pushed himself off the wall, "All he talks about is getting you back, Kenny," Stan snapped irritably, "I knew from the beginning of Kyle and my relationship, even longer, that if you ever came back, Kyle would leave me. He just, he doesn't love me the same way he loves you," Stan's shoulders slumped slightly and he looked tired, "I know this, and I'll do whatever makes him happy even though I wish and pray to God every fucking day that he'd feel like that for me. But you're setting him up for heartbreak, Kenny. And I don't think he can deal with it this time."

"I know," Kenny replied, "Dude, I know but…."

"No buts," Stan snapped, "If you hurt him, if you push him over the edge because this little plan of yours fails, I won't hesitate on sending you back to Hell."

Kenny bit back a low growl, losing part of the battle as he came out when he spoke, "I wouldn't threaten me, if I were you."

Stan's eyes narrowed further, "And why is that?"

"Because it makes me want to rip out your intestines and shove then down your throat," the undead blonde replied curtly, idly wondering how he and Stan had managed to have fun a few days ago.

Kenny hoped that it was the situation that made Stan a complete dick and his childhood friend just didn't become this way over time.

Then again, he was also probably upset over the fact that Kenny killed his friends.

Stan's glare faltered for a moment before he regained composure, "Oh yeah," He replied shortly, "Because Kyle would just _love_ that."

This time Kenny allowed the growl to escape as his hands clenched into fists, "He'll get over it once he has me," the undead blonde snapped, "He'll probably feel less guilty about dumping your sorry ass too."

Stan's hand curled into fists as well, his jaw clenching and unclenching. He was about to retort or take some form of action when the door opened, revealing Christophe much to their relief. He most likely had a feeling that they'd be fighting and would prefer Kyle not see it and cause even more drama.

"You two do realize 'zat 'zis is very suspicious activity and 'zat Kyle is 'zinking of reasons why you'd need to talk in private," He stated in a tone reserved for idiots, "And I know 'e is smart enough to figure out 'zat 'ze conclusion is most likely not planning a surprise party."

Shooting one last glare, Stan stomped past The Mole and into the apartment. Kenny eyed the brunette warily and Christophe returned the look with an expression of disinterest, "You lied to him."

"You didn't call me out," Kenny replied, finally advancing for the door.

The Frenchman stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder, "You did 'ze right thing. 'Zey would've slowed us down considerably and 'zey are too big of a risk."

Kenny scowled, "I couldn't give a shit about Stan," He replied darkly before heading back in to the waiting redhead.

* * *

Kenny abruptly sat up with a strangled noise, patting down his body to make sure everything was in tact while looking around in a panic. His tense body slowly relaxed when he realized that he was still in the apartment he currently shared with a French mercenary, who was in fact sleeping on the floor a foot away from him. The flashing words 'Game Over' illuminated the room in an eerie way as Kenny slowly registered what had happened.

He and Christophe were playing a video game, the Mole stating that they needed to prepare their reflexes but remain relaxed. Kenny knew it was a load of shit and the mercenary was just using the excuse to play with the undead blonde. At about two in the morning, Christophe simply fell over, asleep, with the game remote still in his hands.

That's what one gets when they don't sleep for days in a row.

Kenny continued playing for a good twenty minutes before nothing. After that, the blonde couldn't remember anything but what was apparently a dream. Which was strange because the walking dead don't sleep and they most likely don't dream, of course Kenny experienced black outs every once in a while but still, he never dreamed. He simply replayed memories.

And this was certainly not a memory.

But he didn't really thing it could be classified as a dream either…

He was in Hell; he knew that was for certain because of the heat, screams of agony, and fire as well as the fact that loud singing in celebration of Luau Sunday was heard in the distance. Unfortunately he was not at the weekly party.

At first he had thought he died, but when he looked his body over, he was still a pale blue and stitched up being. He wasn't there by spirit but completely physical as well. As he idly wondered how this was possible, he looked around and found that he was in a dark room. There was only one window, high up where he couldn't look out clearly. All he could see was the fires of Hell.

That's when he started groping around for a door and found Pip, sitting in a chair and watching him curiously.

"Goodness, it took you long enough," The other blonde had said with an amused look.

"What the fuck is going on," Kenny snarled. "How are you even here? I thought you were fucking alive!"

It was then that the British man pulled up his sleeves, revealing a gash on each wrist. Kenny wondered how they were still there because it defied any logic if Pip's soul committed suicide and retained scars. You get hurt in death, and you come back good as new. Just like Kenny's life.

"I killed myself years before you kicked the bucket," Pip had replied with a glare, "Shows how much anyone in South Park cares though."

Kenny searched for words but couldn't find any suitable, "B-But…why?" He eventually managed to stammer out, though he already knew the answer.

Pip burst to his feet, rushing Kenny until they were practically nose to nose, "Nobody remembered me," He snapped, "I was spat on, insulted, my life was risked time and time again just because of who I was. Even the adults didn't give a damn about me." He had growled, "Then Damien came in our last year of High School. He showed me a world I'd never experienced. He showed me how to turn that pain into pleasure. But then he had to leave."

Kenny stared at Pip with wide eyes, he had never thought of the other blonde to be a masochist and found it a bit disturbing, "So…you killed yourself?"

Pip nodded. "Anyway," He started with a slight sniffle while backing away, "Damien asked me to give you a message."

"I don't want anything to do with him and his damn army," Kenny snapped. "Now send me home."

Pip gave a wide, almost frightening smile, "You are home. And you will give in. It's just a matter of time."

And with that he snapped his fingers, leaving Kenny in his current position. The undead blonde silently stood up and made his way to the television before moving to the large freezer where he and Christophe stored the body parts, after the brunette sighed and went to purchase it after a serious of obscenities. He chose and arm and sat down next to the large appliance.

If the trip to the labs didn't help him, then maybe he should try suicide again.


	12. Notes, Old Friends, and New Enemies

_Disclaimer – I do not own South Park._

_Job interview on Monday the eleventh meant no chappie for yesterday. I totally fell out of my posting everyday thing anyway. Because I'm suddenly feeling artsy fartsy in other ways._

_I would also like to thank the eleven people who voted on my poll. I shall keep my name. _

* * *

By half past midnight on Monday, or Tuesday if you want to be technical about it, Kenny and the Mole found themselves in a room filled with file cabinets. Mole was especially in the zone because they had yet to run into any troubles in the form of alarms, guards or guard dogs. He had done his research thoroughly and the fact that it was going to waste was not only annoying, but bothersome. Why, of all nights, was the security down?

Kenny simply decided to let his partner do all of the worrying and considered it a simple stroke of luck. Mole was now watching the door intensely, his body completely rigid as the undead blonde nosed his way through drawers and files while internally whining that it was hard to do so while wearing a scarf and hood.

"Move quicker," Mole hissed; his body still unmoving.

"Dude, there are thousands of files here and I have to find one," Kenny snapped in a slightly louder tone, "Don't get your panties in a bu-Oh, there it is." Kenny flipped the file open in hopes to see what sort of horrible things occurred to him while he was dead and in the company's possession, unfortunately that did not occur. He only saw a white piece of paper with a note scribbled on in black marker.

'_Lab 4B'_

"Mole."

"What?"

"They were expecting us."

The Mole walked backwards before turning to read the note over Kenny's shoulder, uttering a growl almost exactly like the one's the blonde had been emitting lately. "Sheet." He cursed. "Fucking sheet."

Kenny glanced at the Frenchman cautiously before looking back at the paper, "What do we do?" He asked.

"You know where 'zis lab is?" Mole asked.

"Yeah?"

"'Zen we go 'zere," The Frenchman growled before grouchily kicking the door open, shovel in hand.

Heaving a sigh and wondering if this was really a good idea or not, Kenny took the folder with him as he joined the Mole. The brunette gestured for him to start leading the way and Kenny began walking down the hall fairly casually, eyeing the cameras that watched them. "This is probably all some ridiculous trap, you know," He noted coolly.

"Are you suggesting we give up?" The Mole asked in a curious tone.

"No," Kenny replied hastily, "It's just…no one's paying you, right? You're doing this as a favor for Kyle. You can go if you want to."

The Frenchman sighed tiredly, "Oui, it is a favor. It was." He shifted his grip on his shovel, refusing to look at the blonde, "You 'ave been a good friend and shown a great amount of control. I am now doing 'zis to help you." He glanced at Kenny, who beamed at him and scowled, "But if you tell anyone I said 'zat, I'll kill you."

Kenny nodded quickly, a look of amusement on his face. They passed by a doors labeled 1A through 15A and their walking only quickened as they entered a new hall with doors labeled with a number and a B. Mole held up his hand as they approached 4B and pressed his back against the wall, Kenny following suit. They stayed like that, completely silent, for a few moments. A faint sound was heard through the wall, causing the Mole to kick the door open, brandishing his shovel in a threatening way.

Kenny slipped in, staying behind the Mole, and peeked around his broad shoulder.

The lab was large and familiar. A couple of exam tables sat off to the left side as four separate work stations stood in the middle of the room. Some workstations had cages containing rats and others with beakers and flasks of strange chemicals. Bookshelves and cabinets stayed along the walls along with a few desks. Charts and signs covered the walls and in the far right corner was an eye wash station and chemical shower.

If he could breathe, he would've gasped loudly. Instead, he pushed past his companion, who hissed his name in surprise, and stared in shock. He then pointed an accusing finger at the person.

"What the _fuck_ are _you_ doing here?!"

Eric Cartman rolled his blue eyes with an expression of annoyance, his hands casually in the white lab coat he wore. The front pocket had a couple of pens and a laminated badge that held a picture of his smirking face. Kenny knew that in the seventh grade, Cartman had taken an interest in genetics and similar sciences. Kyle had hypothesized that it was because Cartman didn't know who his birth mother was. He had a mother, yes, but since Liane Cartman was the man in the situation, Eric had no clue who his birth mother was. No one knew his motives for sure though.

Kyle had also joked that obesity was involved too and Cartman was looking for scientific proof that being 'big-boned' was possible. Not that Cartman was fat now, he was tall just like in high school, almost a head taller than Kenny, with broad shoulders and a large, but not fat build. If he looked like this in high school instead of the giant chubby thing he was before, he probably would've been hounded to join the football team.

"I work here, you ass." The brunette replied before letting his eyes scan Kenny over. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Kenny idly mused that they both were communicating as if they hadn't lost contact with each other after graduating high school and tugged the scarf off before letting the hood drop from his head, allowing the light to hit his face. "Then you might know about this." He stated with a low growl.

Cartman's eyes, formally Kenny's eyes until he 'donated' them to the other man when they were only eight, widened ever so slightly as he took the extent of Kenny's features in. The undead blonde could practically feel Cartman's gaze roam over the stitches and discoloration and he patiently waited for his childhood companion to reply, hoping that Cartman would take all of their past experiences into account and actually be helpful for once.

"No." Cartman said finally, "I don't know much about it."

"Much?" The Mole spoke up, "'Zen you clearly know something."

Kenny noticed Cartman's eyes flicker over to a desk for less than a split second, where a manila file folder sat, and he let out another low growl, his annoyance rising. "You fucking let this note, didn't you?" He asked sharply while slamming the folder in his hand on the counter next to him.

"Yes, yes it was," Cartman replied, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk.

The undead blonde's body went completely rigid. He forgot how Cartman worked, that any sign of weakness while in a controlled area was a ploy. They were on his turf and every demand; every reaction was most likely taken into consideration. They were, of course, playing right into the brunette's hands.

The only way to make him sloppy was to piss him off.

Kenny leaned against the counter casually, "So, what are you here?" He asked, "An intern? Some lab tech?"

"Head of research," Cartman replied in a snippy tone.

Kenny snorted, "Dude, just Head of Research? How long have you been working here?"

"Four years."

Kenny snorted again, "Figured you'd own this company by now or something. Apparently, you've lost your touch, fatass." He commented dryly.

Cartman narrowed his eyes, pulling his hands out of his pockets and curling them into fists, "Don't. Call me fat." He snapped.

"I didn't," Kenny replied, "I called you a fatass." Cartman's knuckles cracked and Kenny could feel the Mole's gaze burning into the back of his head, "Anyway, you told us to come here, so what do you want? We're very busy men, you know. We can't dawdle around with the Head of Research. We have _much_ bigger fish to fry." Kenny stated, "And by bigger, I mean by position in the company, not weight." He laughed, "If that were the case, we'd be a bit more eager to stay."

"Goddammit, Kenneh, I am not fat so shut up before I kill your po' dead ass!" The large brunette snapped, his fist crashing loudly into the counter. If some sort of indent occurred, Kenny would've been worried. "I don't care what the boss has to say!"

Kenny laughed again, "Oh, Cartman, you of all people should know that authority needs to be respected."

Cartman let out a yell, shooting forward and grabbing Kenny by the front of his hoodie before moving to throw a punch at the undead blonde but a sharp female voice stopped him and the room's inhabitants looked up at the intercom in the corner of the lab.

"Doctor Cartman, I advise that you don't do that. You wouldn't want the subject losing control, would you? Or worse."

"Goddammit," Cartman hissed under his breath before letting Kenny go.

"Good. Now if you would please escort Mr. McCormick and his companion to my office. With the file please."

The large man heaved a sigh, grabbing Kenny's file off the table, "C'mon, you fags." He mumbled before pushing past the Mole, who was ready to bash the larger man's head in with his shovel, and out the door.

Kenny and the Mole warily glanced at each other and followed.

They made their way back to the room filled with file cabinets and Cartman entered the door across the way, which led directly to stairs. There he climbed the several levels, the both of them following and listening intently to his words, "Alright, you're about to see one of the most important, influential people in this fucking place so don't be your fucking asshole selves." He snapped.

Kenny snorted, rolling his eyes and glancing at Mole, whose expression was emotionless. Kenny wanted to retort that he wasn't going to be nice at all to the person who most likely ordered this to be done to him. He was going to rudely demand answers and inflict physical pain if he had to until he got what he wanted.

The small group walked past a reception area until they reached a shiny wooden door that looked like it belonged to the office of some sort of CEO. And from what it sounded like, it did. Cartman knocked before opening it a crack and peeking in. Faint words were exchanged, Kenny couldn't make them out, and Cartman retreated, glaring at the two.

"Go on in." He stated with his eyes narrowed before he sat in one of the plush chairs placed next to the door.

Hesitantly, Kenny glanced at the Mole, who gave a single short nod, and they walked into the room, both on their guard.

The office seemed normal enough except for the dim lighting. The large wooden desk was polished and sat in front of the large bookcases that sat opposite of the wall with the door. Next to the entrance were two leather couches, one on each side, and a potted tree. In front of the desk were two chairs that looked comfortable but most likely weren't and behind the desk was a large red chair, it's back facing the trespassing pair.

The chair turned around, revealing a gorgeous young woman with dark brown hair that ran past her shoulders and plump pink lips. She wore a pinstriped blazer and skirt, which was probably short enough to show off her long legs that were hidden by the desk, with a white blouse underneath. The top three buttons were undone, showing a great amount of cleavage when she leaned forward against the desk on her elbows, lacing her manicured fingers together and looking at them over her hands. Her expression was cold and calculated and Kenny frowned when he noted that her eyes not only held a cold emotion, but looked cold too. They were so brow that they were practically black and they held no shine.

"I was starting to doubt that Damien kept his word," She stated in a sharp, condescending tone.

Kenny's back immediately straightened as his mind went on alert. "What do you know about Damien?" He demanded.

"Only that he gave me this body so I could exact revenge on you," She replied, standing up. "He has good taste too; it's totally your type."

Kenny furrowed his brow, "My type?" He asked in confusion before straightening up again, "Revenge?! What the fuck did I do to you? I don't even _know_ you!"

Her eyes narrowed and she stood up, slamming her palms against the hard wood of her desk, "You don't even recognize the girl you _killed_?!" She practically shrieked.

"Killed?!" Kenny was generally confused. He didn't recognize this woman, but he could've suffered a blackout. Unless, of course, she was the reason he was like this in the first place. "I didn't kill anybody before…" He gestured to his body.

Her face contorted into a sneer, "Liar," She spat. "You gave me syphilis and killed me! You fucking lying whore!"

Kenny took a step back, startled by his words before cocking his head to the side. He remembered, when he was a kid, contracting syphilis and passing on. His friends had warned him that his girlfriend at the time was a slut and Cartman himself told him that girls had a ridiculous amount of germs in their mouths.

"_Tammy_?"


	13. Fights, Wounds, and Talking

_Disclaimer – I do not own South Park_

_Sorry it took so long, I've been lazy and then allergies. Bleh._

* * *

Kenny had time to shove the Mole out of the way when Tammy Warner threw her large, heavy wood desk at the living man like it was a dodgeball. Instead of getting hit, which Kenny was completely ready for; Kenny somehow caught the desk and through it into a wall before issuing a feral snarl towards the woman. He had no idea he had that kind of strength but he wasn't going to ponder about it while Tammy was trying to kill him.

"I didn't fucking kill you," He growled, his tone sounding less human by the second.

"Then who did?!" She screamed as she hurled a bookcase towards him.

"Maybe that guy who fucked you in the mouth before we got together!" Kenny managed to push it out of the way before it hit him and he glanced at Mole, "Get out of here," He ordered, "And take the fatass."

The Mole, understanding full well that a human in a battle involving creatures from Hell would be of no use, nodded and quickly slipped out the door, slamming it closed behind him. Kenny never took his eyes off Tammy, who was glaring right back.

Her hands curled into fists, knuckles cracking, "Are you calling me a slut?" She hissed.

"Yes, I did," Kenny growled, "Now tell me everything you know about Damien."

"You're lying! I am _not_ a slut!" Tammy howled, "You lying fucking whore! You murdered me! You killed me and then got the chance to come back while I was in Hell! Do you know where they put me?! _Do you_?!"

"I have a guess."

"The Lust District!" Tammy screamed, tears streaming down her cheeks, "I was labeled a slut! And after years of being in Hell, once I was supposed to be sixteen, they had me start _working_!"

Kenny softened slightly at that. Hell was large, and there was a part of it held a large city which was commonly known as Sin City. The city had seven districts, each based on one of the sins. Gluttony held most of the restaurants and fast food joints, Kenny had been there on more than one occasion, Pride was where people who let their pride get in the way of living, he'd never been there so he didn't know what it contained, the Sloth district was completely useless and unsanitary, Greed was where the casinos and banks were held, Envy was just a ridiculous shopping district where there was only one of everything so nobody could get something someone else had, no one dared walk into Wrath, it was just a giant riot and that part of the city was always on more fire than the rest of Hell, and then there was Lust.

The Lust District was a collection of motels, hotels, sex toy stores, burlesque houses and more. It had slums where you could get a cheap prostitute, like Colfax Lane only way worse, and it had a red lantern district. Every business was devoted to the carnal urge to have sex. Unfortunately, if you died of an STD you were labeled as giving into lust and immediately sent to the district. If, in rare cases, you were a child when you died and sent to the district, they waited until you were mentally mature enough, and then let you work the streets and attract the sick fucks who liked kids.

Not everyone was sent to this city and outsiders could come and go if they please, but if you died due to a serious offense of a sin, you were sent there and you stayed there. Kenny wasn't sure why STD's counted because people could've been raped and given them. He'd asked Satan once but the devil simply gave him an all you can eat pass for the Gluttony district and Kenny completely forgot his question.

"Tammy," Kenny forced out a softer tone as the woman glared at him and choked down her own sobs, "I know you went through a lot of shit in Hell. I'm not going to say I understand because I don't, I didn't go through what you did when I got to the Lust District, but this isn't the right thing to do."

"I'm not a slut," Tammy whimpered, her temper calming with the help of Kenny's soft voice.

"I know, I know," Kenny replied quickly, "And I shouldn't have said that. I let my temper get in the way of rational thinking."

The woman before him sniffled and nodded, her streaked hair falling into her face, "M-Maybe I did too," She allowed.

Kenny took a few cautious steps forward and held out his arms, "Friends?" He asked carefully.

Tammy tentatively stepped forward, carefully wrapping her arms around his neck and tenderly burying her face in his chest, still sniffling. Kenny rubbed her back gently, making note that she was hugging him like girls hug their friends and not lovers, keeping her hips away from his. He was very thankful for that.

He let her cling to him until she calmed down and pulled away on her own, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear. "I…I'll tell you what you want to know," She muttered, glancing more at the stitches on his face then him.

Kenny blinked, "Really?"

Tammy nodded, "Yes."

Kenny gently took Tammy's hand and led her to one of the leather couches, making her sit before sitting down himself, leaning forward on his knees and studying her intently, "What did you and this…company," He glanced around the room suspiciously, "Do to me?"

Tammy straightened slightly, wiping at her eyes, "Naturally when we hired you, we knew exactly what you were capable of. We of course took advantage after you died and came back the first time, offering you things we knew for certain that you weren't going to decline. You took the bait. We tested you, killing you a few times, and manipulated your blood, using both science and black magic."

"Manipulated my blood?"

The brunette nodded, "With Damien's instruction, we managed to make it so that when you came back after we put the blood back into your system, your body wouldn't regenerate."

"That way I'd be undead and could better lead Damien's army?" Kenny asked.

"Yes, exactly."

Kenny frowned, "So why am I all cut open?" he asked.

"We decided it'd be best to inject your blood directly into an artery, then we inserted a small machine, attaching it to your heart, to make it pump every so often, to get the blood flowing. Over the past four years, the manipulated blood has made its way completely through your body. We also cleaned you out internally, made your body healthier and tweaked a few things so that you'd be capable of what you were earlier with the desk and bookcase." Tammy explained before flipping a pocket knife out of her pocket, "May I see your hand?"

Kenny eyed her warily, "Why?"

"I want to show you something to help you understand yourself." She replied. Reluctantly, Kenny held out his hand, palm up, and Tammy held his wrist while making a two inch long cut into his palm, 'Not only are you void of pain, but," Kenny watched in amazement as nothing, absolutely nothing happened to the cut. "Your blood won't seep out wounds."

"That's…wow…."

"Mmhmm," Tammy agreed, getting up and walking to her desk, which was broken in half and reached into a drawer. She came back with a small sewing kit in hand, "Black magic and science will do that."

Kenny watched as she took his hand and began closing the fresh wound before glancing up at her, "So you used science and black magic to make me a super aware zombie. How'd you know it'd work? What if I came back mindless?"

"You never come back mindless," Tammy replied, "We manipulated your body, not your mind. That's where Damien comes in."

Kenny hummed slightly, "So, he won't give up until I join him?"

"Most likely not."

"Damn." Kenny sighed, "I guess I'll just have to keep turning him down." Tammy frowned but she didn't say anything and Kenny gave her a curious look, "So…I have a heartbeat?"

"It rarely beats."

"So I have blood flow?"

"It's slow, but yes."

Kenny grinned, "So, theoretically I can get a boner?"

Tammy eyed Kenny suspiciously, "If your blood wasn't practically molasses." She replied, "But don't you have better things to worry about?"

Kenny nodded, he'd have to tell Kyle off about that some other time, "Change me back." The blonde zombie stated firmly, "Or at least tell me how I can change back."

Tammy shook her head, "I don't know how. You'd have to talk to Damien."

Kenny stared at her, feeling mentally exhausted. She finished sewing up his hand and he opened and closed it a few times, adjusting to the slight tightness of the skin. "I need to talk to Satan." He announced, standing up.

"But how? You'd need to go to Hell to do that."

Kenny shrugged as he walked over to a large window and busted the glass before ripping out a jagged piece of frame. He noted that it was sharp enough to do the job and smiled at Tammy, "I'll just kill myself. He'll fix everything and then I can come back like normal."

"But, Kenny…"

Before she could say anything Kenny was already holding the jagged wood at an angle and quickly pulling it towards his head. But when it was a centimeter away, the piercing pain that he had experienced in his brain from the last time he tried to kill himself returned, causing him to drop his weapon of choice with a clatter. He fell to his knees, clutching his head and screaming in agony. Tammy ran towards him, heels clicking and echoing in his brain painfully before she kicked away the stick and engulfed him in a hug. The pain receded seconds later and he was reduced to a shaking mass.

"I tried to tell you," She said softly as he continued to shake in her arms, "If you try to kill yourself, Damien will stop you."

"H-How'd…"

"That cut over your eye. We removed your eye from the socket; successfully keeping it attached and managed to implant a sort of receptor. When you attempt suicide, it triggers."

"So he's fucking dooming me to this?" Kenny asked in a harsh tone.

Tammy nodded slowly, "Yes. He can make it as comfortable for you as possible as long as you do as he asks."

"And you're in the same situation."

"Yes."

Kenny pulled away from the young woman and scowled, "We'll have to fix you too then." He stated before pausing, "Unless…you can go to Hell?"

Tammy shook her head, "Only if I'm with Damien."

The zombie frowned, "What if you killed me? Then I can talk to Satan and come back"

"You record who kills you so Damien can find them."

"Fuck, he thought of everything," Kenny growled.

Tammy tilted her head, studying Kenny curiously with a frown and furrowed brows. "Why are you so eager to come back?" She finally asked.

Kenny blinked at her, somewhat surprised that she didn't already know but shrugged it off, "I have someone. Well, had…sort of. He's with someone else but he'll come back to me once I get back to normal, he'll come back to me." He explained vaguely.

"If it weren't for love, you wouldn't be as intent to change back?"

"I would probably take Damien up on his offer," Kenny admitted, "I was so sick of dying and my friends were...are….fuck, they're not my friends anymore…assholes who were so used to me coming back and I started to detach myself from people. I was always observant and after everything I noticed, I started hating humanity. I guess Kyle noticed because he gave me reasons to keep dealing with the bad that hides the good."

"That's so romantic," Tammy replied softly, smiling at Kenny.

"Sickening is more like it." A third voice spoke up.

* * *

_Serious chapter = Ewwwwww_

_P.S. I got iScribble. PM me if you ever wanna hook up and draw. =B_


	14. Deals, Getaways, and Kidnappings

_Disclaimer – I do not own South Park_

* * *

Tammy gasped and Kenny shot to his feet, maneuvering to stand in front of the woman protectively and growled. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Oh, you know exactly what I want, Mr. McCormick," Damien calmly stepped toward the pair, showing only a mild look of amusement as his dark eyes flickered to Tammy. "And you, Ms. Warner, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Not only did you fail to do what you were told, but gave away confidential information. I'm afraid you're going to have to be punished."

Before either of them could react, Damien snapped his fingers. Tammy gave a quick shriek and the only thing Kenny saw when he turned was Pip pulling the woman into his arms and disappearing in a flash of smoke and fire. When Kenny turned back to look at Damien, he was flying across the room, his back colliding with the wall with a sickening crack. He slid down, his body crumpling to the floor and he groaned, lifting his aching body onto his forearms. Kenny winced when his body was forced against the floor again by Damien's weight.

"Now, what should I do with you," Damien mused as Kenny struggled under the weight of Damien's foot on the center of his back. "I could drag you back to hell, but then I couldn't use you anymore….I could kill everyone you love, but then you'd be less inclined to join me…"

"What are you going to do to Tammy?" Kenny growled as he continued to struggle.

"Mmm, I haven't decided," Damien replied, "Why do you ask?"

"She doesn't deserve all the shit she went through," Kenny opted to stop struggling and instead try to grab Damien's leg and throw the anti-Christ off balance, his arms flailing behind him in hopes of reaching the offending foot.

"Oh, I believe she did," Damien replied, watching Kenny's flailing with an expression of disinterest, "After all, she ended up in the Lust District-"

"Ending up there because of an STD is a fucking flaw in the rules and you know it!"

"Don't interrupt me," Damien snapped, grinding his heel and earning a yelp from Kenny, and he chuckled, "Yes, I know she said you can't feel the pain, but I can change that. I can change anything and everything involving you, Mr. McCormick."

Kenny made a noise that was mixed between a growl and a whimper, much to the blonde's disdain, "Don't hurt Tammy for what I did."

"My, aren't we trying to be noble," Damien noted, "Well, since I refuse to let you run my army in this state, you may turn on me, I have a job for you to do. Do it and I'll relieve Ms. Warner of her punishment."

Kenny glared at Damien from the corner of his dull blue eye, "Promise?"

"You have my word."

Kenny hesitated for a moment. Whatever Damien had planned wasn't good, it never was. After all, he was dealing with the anti-Christ. "What is it?" He asked hesitantly.

"I need you to get in the good graces of the townspeople." Damien replied coolly.

Kenny's body went rigid, "You….want me to expose myself and risk a bullet to the head?" He asked cautiously.

"Yes," Damien replied, "I'm quite sure you'll survive though."

Kenny stared at the other man in shock. Damien, who was so intent on keeping Kenny un-alive, was asking him to risk it all. Either Kenny would be accepted by the citizens of South Park or he'd die. It was win-win for him. Or at least he thought so.

There was the whole Kyle thing to take into account. Kenny had failed his mission. He didn't have anything to show for it and Kyle was going to find out that he had lied in order to keep the redhead safe. It was something Kyle Broflovski wouldn't appreciate, despite the good intentions. And there was what Kenny and Stan discussed. Stan had vowed to kill Kenny if he failed. Kenny had mixed feelings for that, he knew Kyle wouldn't be happy if he discovered that his best friend killed his zombie lover of the past. But Kyle would be heartbroken if Kenny returned without a glimmer of hope.

Either way he was fucked.

Unless, of course, he did manage to get the town to accept him. That might mean something in Kyle's books.

This was getting way too fucking complicated.

"Fine," He growled reluctantly, "I'll give a try."

"That's what I like to hear," Damien replied and Kenny felt the weight on his back disappear. When he looked up, he found that the other man had left him to the room alone.

Tiredly, Kenny stood up on shaking legs and stumbled out of the office, picking up his neglected scarf on the way. He navigated his way out of the building, clutching his stomach. It was slowly growing impatient and he wasn't sure how long he'd last without food. He'd used up _a lot_ of energy during the night and his body was showing it. His foot bumped into a raised piece of cracked pavement and he felt himself falling. A strong pair of arms caught him though and he heard a low murmur of French dialogue.

"Mole?"

"You look like sheet," The living brunette snapped as he dragged the blonde zombie towards his waiting van.

"Where's Cartman?"

"Tied up in 'ze back, of course," Mole replied shoving Kenny into the back of the van with an irritated Eric Cartman, gagged and tied, and dropped a cooler into the blonde's lap. "You look 'ungry. Eat."

Kenny nodded hesitantly as the doors closed. Moments later, Mole climbed into the driver's seat and the engine of the van started before they began rolling away from the building. Kenny glanced at Cartman, who was glaring at him intensely, before opening the cooler. His face lit up in delight as he saw that the Mole had packed his favorite. Brains.

He took a bite, holding the crucial body part in his hands, and had to admit that they weren't as good as when they were fresh. When they were fresh they were juicy and squishy and just so damn yummy. Not that they weren't delicious when they were grey and a bit old. They were just chewy and the blonde zombie hated having to work at his food before swallowing.

He ate mostly in silence, emitting a happy moan every now and then, and glanced up at Cartman again. The larger man was staring at him in awe and disgust. Kenny figured it was one of those sights where you want to look away but you just can't. Then again, Cartman had done his fair share to the human body, never his own though, that he shouldn't really be disgusted. Of course, he'd probably look at Kenny with less disgust if the brain was in a bowl of chili.

They drove forever, taking the long way back to the apartments to confuse and hopefully lose anyone who was following. Kenny thought Mole was being both paranoid and ridiculous. They weren't dealing with normal hit men and assassins and whoever else the Frenchman dealt with. The people they were trying to avoid would always know where they were. Hell, Damien or Pip could appear in the van at any second and kill the lot of them without a second thought. Kenny wasn't going to point this out to his friend though; he worried about the Mole's mental stability. The guy had too many issues as is. What with hating God and having mother issues and all. And of course, Kenny would never confront him about these issues, Mole never actually told him. The guy was a sleep talker.

They eventually arrived at the apartment complex. Kenny was full and he felt better, despite being a little sore but he figured that would subside eventually. Mole peered back and nodded towards Cartman. "Blindfold 'im." He commanded.

Kenny did as we was told, glad to find that the Mole was always prepared and had some cloth ready. He made sure it was snug around his childhood friend's eyes, internally laughing at the muffled curses Cartman made and wondered if he sounded like that as a child. The Mole opened the back doors and sighed, looking wary.

"First time taking an abductee to your lair?" Kenny asked, trying to sound good natured but serious. It was hard but Mole seemed to appreciate the efforts.

"Oui, generally I kill or hand 'ze person off to someone else."

"There's a first for everything," Kenny chirped, pushing Cartman out of the van.

Mole unbound Cartman's legs and they each took an arm, stealthily dragging the larger man into the shadows of the building before quickly climbing the concrete steps. He didn't fight or protest, something that Kenny was thankful for but also suspicious. Cartman was more than likely formulating a plan. They got him into the apartment without any hassle, pleased that normal people slept at this time of night so no one would see their neighbor and an undead man dragging a guy in a lab coat into an apartment. They got him onto the futon and Kenny crouched down before Cartman, taking off the blindfold and looking the living man in the eyes.

"Okay, you're not going to yell or anything, right?" He asked cautiously.

Cartman rolled his eyes and stared at Kenny like he was an idiot before glancing at Mole. Clearly saying that he knew what would happen if he even tried. Kenny removed the gag and Cartman glared at Kenny, "Care to tell me what the fuck happened?" He asked calmly.

"I…" Kenny hesitated, not sure what he should say.

Mole plopped down next to Cartman and lit a cigarette, ignoring the look the other living man was giving him, "I, too, am curious, Kenny."

Kenny played with his scarf for a moment before standing up and pacing, "Well, I got Tammy to talk. She explained what you guys," He gave Cartman a cold look and continued walking, "did to me. And…then Damien came and had Pip take her back to Hell."

"And?"

Kenny gave them both a helpless look before letting his shoulders slump, "And I gotta try and convince the town to accept me."

There was a moment of silence before Cartman snorted, "How the fuck are you supposed to do that?" He asked, "Remember the _last_ time you were a zombie?"

"Living impaired!"

"Whatever. You started a Goddamn epidemic and Kahl had to cut you in half."

"So I'm guessing you don't think they'll trust me?" Kenny asked, leaning against the wall. He didn't remember any of that occurring in the third grade. He remembered passing on and then coming back good as new later.

"I wouldn't."

"Well then we won't have to worry about undead armies and shit, right?" Kenny replied optimistically. "If they kill me, I mean. I'll just go to hell and show that bastard Damien what I really think of him."

"It is not 'zat easy," Christophe stated, taking a long drag of his already quickly diminishing cigarette. "What if 'e still does it and you are 'ze only one who can stop it?"

"What about your faggy little Jew?"

Kenny stared at them, considering both of their excellent points. "Kyle means everything to me. But he's lived without me before," Kenny started, "But…I can't let him live in a world that's still at risk."

"I can kill him for you."

Kenny glared at Cartman before rolling his eyes. "No, I told Damien I'd try and I'm going to give my best. I'll just…figure out how to do it. Maybe one person at a time." He grinned, "As I recall, the town likes vigilantes, maybe I could do that!"

"As I recall, you are a wanted murderer," Christophe pointed out while kicking off his boots.

Kenny thought for a moment, "That wasn't me. That was a mindless zombie," He replied. It was half the truth; Kenny was mindless at the time.

"It's ridiculous and stupid." Christophe replied.

"Fine, fine," Kenny said in exasperation while he grabbed three controllers, Mole for some reason had opted to get more, just in case, "I won't do it." He flopped down on Cartman's other side, sticking a controller in the larger man's still bound hands and handing the second to Mole before settling back. He glanced at his childhood friend with a relaxed grin, "All we have are zombie killing games. Sorry."

Cartman shrugged, frowning at his hands, "I'll just pretend I'm killing your po' undead ass." He replied, causing the blonde to laugh.

* * *

_1) FANART AHHHHH .com/art/living-impared-kenny-126683969_

_2) I'm SOOOO sorry I haven't updated in, like, forever. I was hit with a massage dose of writer's block. I feel horrible. I'll update more now though._


	15. Car Accidents, Old Friends, and Politics

_Disclaimer – I do not own South Park._

* * *

Bebe Stephens loved her job.

Being the assistant of the mayor of South Park certainly wasn't a glamorous job, all she did was answer phones, help assess which chaotic occurrence had to be handled first, conduct tours for elementary school children and ward of Sheila Broflovski. But the pay was good, enough for her to live in a nice apartment on her own and own a car as well as feed her hunger for shoes, even if they had to be discounted by Clyde Donovan, who still had the hots for her. She had her own desk, placed neatly in the little waiting room in front of the mayor's office and everyone knew of her position in the local government.

She was a woman ready to take on the world.

What she wasn't ready to take on, however, was hitting a person crossing the street with her car while she was on her way to the office at five in the morning on Wednesday.

She had a doctor's appointment in the early afternoon, and instead of taking off some of her vacation hours the mayor had agreed to let her off early if she went into work early. Thankfully the mayor of South Park trusted her enough to let her pull this off. And Bebe wasn't going to soil that trust like she had in the past.

She squealed, slamming on her breaks as the man rolled up over her windshield and flew onto the pavement behind her trendy vehicle in a flash of orange. She shakily unbuckled her seatbelt and pushed the car door open before running to the body on the ground, noting the cooler a few feet away, as fast as her high heeled shoes and a short skirt bound legs could take her.

"Oh God, oooooh God!" She cried desperately. She didn't need a ticket and she definitely didn't need to be tried for manslaughter. "_Please_ be alive!"

The man groaned and shifted. Bebe was about to order him to stay down so she could call an ambulance since his arm was bent strangely and there shouldn't have been a bone protruding from his calf. But then he rolled over and readjusted his arm with a grunt before sitting up. She wanted to scream when she saw the pale blue skin and horrid arm readjustment. She wanted to run at the sight of her dead and obviously still dead former classmate. All she could do was utter a small sound and he turned around, looking at her in mild shock.

"Bebe?" He asked in the all too familiar voice. It used to be muffled until junior high, where they both became friends and she became part of the small circle that saw him when he was unguarded. She was thrown out of that circle a little after they started high school. They had some sort of childish fight and called it quits on their friendship, both too stubborn to make up.

She still cried sometimes when she realized he wouldn't be coming back from death again.

"K-Kenny?" She whimpered.

He ignored her for a moment, opting for shoving the protruding bone back into its place with a more annoyed and struggled noise than pained. Bebe quickly looked away when he played momentarily with the gap between muscles and skin but she returned her attention to the undead blonde when he spoke.

"You're all into fashion, right? You have a repair kit?"

"Excuse me?" She asked, trying to grasp the reality of the situation. Kenny McCormick was _dead_. He'd been dead for years. This was simply a trick of the mind.

"A repair kit," Kenny stated impatiently, rolling his dull eyes, "You know, needle and thread in a little pouch just in case you tear your skirt bending over because you indulged yourself in one too many jam filled donuts, but it went straight to your hips and you don't have a friend to back you up because you were too much of a dumbass."

"Oh God, it is you, Kenny."

"Yes, yes it is," The zombie replied, not sounded keen to talk to her at all, "Now do you have a kit or what?"

"Not on me," Bebe replied, suddenly becoming aware of the tears that were brimming her eyes, "B-But if you're willing to come to work with me, I have one there…."

"Fuck no," He growled before moving to get on his feet, unfortunately for him, without his skin holding everything together, the broken bone merely feel back out and he began to fall back for the concrete. Bebe reacted, catching him and holding him up while pulling his arm around her shoulder, holding onto his wrist, and wrapping her other arm around the undead man's waist. He scowled at her staring, because she couldn't stop looking at his face, "Where do you work?"

"I'm the mayor's assistant."

Bebe frowned when Kenny's face seemed to light up but his eyes remained dull. "Great. Fucking great. Yeah, I'll take your offer." He replied, "And I won't hold it against you're running over me if you let me talk to the mayor."

"I don't know…"

"_Please_?"

Bebe sighed. Kenny could still pull off a cute pouty begging face despite being a walking corpse. She wasn't sure why she was doing this, it was probably more common sense to run over him a few times until she was sure he was dead again. For all she knew, as soon as they reached the safe privacy of the office, he'd tear her limb from limb, commenting on her chunky butt while she was still alive, just to get on her nerves. It was, after all, the Kenny thing to do. But, she couldn't bring herself to think he would actually do that. Kenny McCormick was never really violent unless it was self defense or protecting his friends. And he was a firm believe in chivalry despite being a womanizer before he met Kyle. He was always the first to defend a girl when someone, usually Eric Cartman, began to mock her.

"Fine. I'll talk to her, but it's not definite." She replied shortly.

He smiled, "Thanks, Bebe, and do you think you can get my cooler?" She nodded and led him to the car, helping him into the passenger seat before running back and picking up the cooler. Without a thought of what was inside of it, she returned to the car and gave the zombie his cooler before sliding into the driver's seat and closing the door.

* * *

"You smell really good."

"Thanks, it's some perfume Clyde bought me," Bebe replied.

She had gotten over the fact that her former friend was the walking dead. He'd allowed her to establish that and asked her for yet another favor. At first she wasn't as willing to do it but after hearing what he had been through (he kept crucial parts such as the army of the undead and Damien out) and watching him struggle, she got over her own problems and agreed to help. Now Kenny was lying on his stomach, arms acting as a pillow for his head, legs straight out and his pants draped over Bebe's desk. She sat on his back, leg on either side of him, succeeding in looking a bit like a whore since she was wearing a skirt, as she sewed his leg back up properly.

"Mmm, no, don't mean it like that," Kenny replied lazily.

Bebe paused with her sewing, her body going rigid, "Then how do you mean?" She asked cautiously.

"Hand me my cooler, will you? I'm hungry."

Bebe all too quickly grabbed the cooler off the nearby chair in the waiting room and set in front of Kenny before continuing her work on his leg. She now had a feeling she knew what was inside the cooler and she didn't want to see the zombie eat. Unfortunately, she could hear every bite and squishing sound whatever he was eating made along with the hungry and delighted moans he emitted as he chewed.

Bebe finished her work on his leg and got up, sitting on her chair at her desk and starting work on his pants. "I have an extra sewing kit, brand new, you can have it."

"Thanks," Kenny replied, before biting into whatever he was eating again, "Glad to see you became less than a bitch over the years."

"I just stitched up your nasty undead leg and you're calling me a bitch?!" Bebe snapped, "You know what? Forget it; you don't get to meet the mayor. I can't believe I was going to help you! I should've kept driving!"

Kenny turned, glaring at Bebe and flung the muscle he was eating back into the cooler before shooting to his feet, "Oh yeah, you're good at that, ain'tcha, Bebe? Abandoning friends in need."

"I never abandoned you!"

"Like fuck you did!" Kenny growled, "The summer between junior high and high school you stopped being a brick with boobs and actually got a figure. Next thing I know, I'm on my own because you're too busy becoming a slut!"

"I am _not_ a slut!" Bebe shouted, throwing down the pair of pants.

"Bitch, please."

Bebe glared intensely and put her hands on her hips, cocking them to the side, "That's not even what happened," She started, "_You_ left _me_ in the cold."

Kenny snorted, "And how exactly did I do that?"

"You died." Kenny's expression softened immediately when she said that and he seemed more interested to listen, "You died and you just…you weren't as eager to talk to people. You barely opened up to me. I confronted you and we fought," Bebe explained softly.

"Really?" Kenny asked, "I…I don't really remember…I mean, I knew I became distant but I didn't think it affected anyone. I didn't think anyone else but Kyle noticed…"

Bebe frowned, he sounded so helpless. She gave a soft sigh and sat down again, pulling his pants towards her and continuing on mending them. "Fine. You can meet the mayor."

Kenny perked and grabbed a chair, dragging it to sit across from Bebe, on the other side of her desk and picked up the little bobble-headed toy of some Hollywood hunk, "Thanks." He stated softly, flicking the little figure's head, "Uhm….Sorry."

"It's fine." Bebe replied shortly, keeping her gaze on the pants leg she was repairing.

"You did an awesome job on my leg by the way, it feels great."

"I was the best in Home Ec."

"Do you….Do you think we can be friends again?" Kenny asked cautiously.

Bebe couldn't help the small smile that graced her lips as she glanced up at Kenny through her lashes, "I don't see why it wouldn't hurt," She replied, moving her gaze back to her work. She finished quickly and handed the jeans back to the now beaming zombie before turning on her computer. "Now let me do my actual work or else I'm going to be in trouble."

"We're friends again for less than five minutes and you're already a drag," Kenny joked.

Bebe couldn't help but laugh, "I sacrificed an hour and a half for you already, Kenny, and I need to get _some_ work done today." She replied, "Especially since the Mayor will be here any minute."

As if on cue, the door opened and Bebe straightened up in her seat, smiling brightly. Kenny turned, curiously and expecting to see the same woman South Park had since he was a kid. Instead, he was greeted with a lovely young woman with raven hair tied up in a bun while wearing a pinstriped power suit and neat black heels. In her hand was a briefcase and the other held a Harbucks coffee. She brushed past them, not taking notice just yet and set her briefcase down to pluck her keys from her pocket and unlock the door to her office.

"Bebe, can you do me a favor and get my cell phone number changed? Sheila Broflovski somehow got it from Stan and Kyle and now thinks its okay to call me as soon as something politically incorrect comes into her awareness and needs to have a rally."

Kenny snorted, "Yeah, that's Sheila for ya."

Bebe shot him a glare before looking at the woman, "Sure thing, Wendy."

Kenny straightened considerably as Wendy Testaburger, the youngest mayor South Park had seen since…anyone can remember. This was of course not counting the time when all the kids called the cops on their parents for molestation because Cartman was technically the mayor of_ Smiley Town_. Kenny had to say, the town did a good job electing her. Wendy seemed like the only person capable. She also finally grew a pair of boobs.

"Hey, Wendy, you grew a pair of boobs….about time." Kenny stated weakly, wiggling his fingers in a meek wave.

"Kenny McCormick," Wendy stated, thankfully more in awe than offense. Because if she were used to him being around, she'd sound offended and most likely go off in a rant. Kenny had a feeling she didn't change much. "You're supposed to be-"

"Dead? Yeah, I know." Kenny replied.

Wendy moved, dragging another chair from the waiting room to sit next to Bebe, "What happened?"

If Kenny was about to sigh, he would've because he was honestly didn't want to repeat his stupid story more than once in a day. But if it was going to help his case, he would.


	16. Nerf, Sheila Broflovski, and Word Vomit

_Disclaimer – I do not own South Park_

_I am SOOOOOOO sorry I haven't updated this in 2 months. I'm horrible, I know. _

* * *

Wendy Testaburger stared, astounded still, from her desk. Her fingers were laced together and she was hiding her mouth behind them, watching intently and her elbows neatly balanced on her desk. Her eyes were trained on the man, dead…but not, loading the Nerf gun she kept in her desk when things got too stressful. He then pushed himself off the wall while sitting in a wheeled chair and fired six shots at the dartboard placed at the back of the office door.

Wendy straightened completely when all the darts stuck to the inner circle of the target. "You're a really good shot," She complimented.

Kenny McCormick turned his dead eyes on her, looking just as surprised as she was, "I didn't used to be," He replied. "Now, I wanted to ask you if-"

There was a knock on the door and Bebe peeked in, the movement causing a few of the darts to fall off of the dartboard. "Sorry to interrupt you meeting," She started loudly, "But she's-"

Bebe yelped when the door was pushed open from behind her and Sheila Broflovski stormed in. Hurriedly, Kenny tugged his hood on and rolled to hide in the nearest corner as the woman who was the mother of the love of his life (and unlife) stormed to the desk.

"This is an outrage!"

Wendy sighed, "What's an outrage, Mrs. Broflovski?"

"The outrage is that…I…." Sheila's attention drifted over to the corner. Kenny's corner. Her eyes were furrowed and she looked at Wendy, "Who is that?"

"A friend of mine," Wendy replied quickly, "Special needs. I promised I'd let him see what it's like to be mayor for the day. Continue."

"And you're having him hide in a corner?!" Sheila exclaimed, "Not on my watch!" She turned to Kenny, who pressed himself more into the corner, and held out her hand, "Come here. It's alright…" Kenny quickly shook his head and she squatted down slightly to make eye contact, "Look at me, young man." Kenny cautiously made eye contact with the woman, wincing slightly as a look of recognition flashed in her eyes and she marched to him, yanking off his hood. "Kenny McCormick?!"

Kenny stuttered and struggled with his words for a moment, "Fucking shit."

"Language!"

He winced under the wrath of the older woman, "Yes ma'am, sorry ma'am," He stated hurriedly, straightening up with a perfect posture and trying his best to look well mannered.

The last thing he wanted was Sheila Broflovski starting an anti-undead brigade.

"What happened to you?" She asked in awe.

"I died," Kenny replied simply.

"And?"

Kenny groaned, knowing full well he was going to have to explain himself (not including the parts about Damien) for a third time that day. He ought to just record it or make an informative video. Like a public service announcement.

The blonde zombie launched into his tale, from waking up in a coffin to meeting Bebe that morning. He left out anything suspicious and the rivalry between him and Stan because that would probably be a touchy subject for Sheila. He paused and answered Sheila's curious questions and asserted that he wasn't a murderer and he didn't want to be treated like one.

"I'm still me; I'm just…not all here." He finished carefully.

"And only a few people know about you?"

"Well the first guy who really saw me committed suicide," Kenny replied, "It didn't really motivate me to get social."

"And Kyle knows but he's not taking care of you?"

Kenny winced at the tone of anger in Sheila's voice. She sounded angry at her son and he was probably going to get an ear full. "I don't need to be 'taken care of', Mrs. B. Besides, I willingly left, I was crowding him and Stan," That was hard to say, "And I'm….happy….with where I am now."

"Hiding out of sight because you'll be killed for what you are even though you're a good and decent young man!" Sheila argued.

Oh shit, this woman was going to fucking help him.

Kenny wasn't sure if he should be happy that he's doing what Damien wanted or not.

"I'm fine with sneaking around in the dark and hiding at home." Kenny said, "I mean, I miss going to movies and all that fun stuff but…what can I do?"

"Kenny," Sheila started, holding the blonde's shoulders, "No one, not even someone in your predicament, should live in hiding and fear."

For once, Kenny was glad Sheila was so utterly Jewish.

"But what can I do?" He asked.

Sheila patted his intact cheek lovingly, "Just leave it to me."

* * *

A week later Kenny McCormick sat, arms crossed over his chest while wearing a suit and a smug look on his face, eyes locked with Stan's disbelieving ones.

Kenny was sitting in a folding chair on a platform set up in front of Town Hall. Bebe sat beside him and Wendy beside her. At the center front of the platform was a podium. Behind it stood Sheila Broflovski who was speaking boldly into the microphones to the crowd of people and news cameras. On the other side of the stage sat Gerald and Ike Broflovski, both looking at Kenny in as much amazement as the rest of the townspeople.

"He was an upstanding citizen when he was alive! He worked like the rest of us, he was in a relationship, he provided business for South Park businesses, he paid taxes, and he saved lives numerous times by sacrificing his own. Kenny McCormick should be treated like a hero! He shouldn't feel like he needs to hide simply because he didn't come back in a living human body this time! He should not be treated as a monster; he should be treated as a human being! Kenny as continued to practice good virtues, even while dead. He abstains from murdering and devouring people, he keeps his appetite in check. He is a victim! And we're making him more of one. Today is the day where the Living Impaired get their rights!"

The crowd took this as their cue to cheer and clap. Kenny's smirk widened.

He was in.

"Just hold on a sec!"

The crowd quickly quieted down as Stan climbed up onto the platform and Sheila moved out of his way so he could use the microphones. "Why are you cheering? He's a _zombie_! He's a walking dead person who likes to eat people! Yeah, he was one of my best friends but come on! Are we really going to risk it?"

Sheila shoved Stan out of the way, "A zombie is mindless! Kenny clearly has a mind if he can make the choice not to devour innocent people. He's simply living impaired and if you can't respect that, Stanley Marsh, then you're not a good match for my son!"

"Mom!" Kyle shouted from the ground.

"I'm sorry, Kyle, but it's not fair to treat Kenny this way!"

Kyle rolled his eyes and climbed up on the stage, "Okay, I know how you like to….help those in need….but is it really a good idea to have brought Kenny out into the light like this?"

"Kyle!" Sheila scolded, "I thought I raised you better than this!"

"The government, Mom! What if the government comes and takes him?!"

"Such a thing won't happen," Sheila scoffed.

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut and Kyle tiredly rubbed his temples with the palms of his hands. Kenny decided it was time for him to stand up and cut in before being the cause of a family breaking apart.

He smiled at Sheila, "May I?" He asked quietly while gesturing to the podium.

"Of course, Kenny."

Kenny walked up to the podium, hands gripping the sides and assessed the crowd. They were all staring at him in complete and utter shock and interest. He could see his family to the left, his mother crying and his father having a protective arm around her. He opened his mouth to speak and the crowd leaned forward, excited to hear what the undead man had to say.

"_Braaaiiiins_." There was a mass panic and Kenny waved his arms to catch attention, "Sorry! Sorry! I couldn't help myself! That was my bad! My bad, everyone. I don't' want to eat your brains."

There was a collective sigh of relief.

"Kidneys are where it's at." This time the crowd laughed nervously and Kenny grinned, "Yeah, don't worry, I'm joking." He assured, "The only people I would eat, if any, are murderers, rapists, child molesters and druggies. Because who wants those in our society, am I right?" The crowd cheered, "I mean, we're paying taxes to keep them in jail. So we're paying to feed, shelter and clothes people that we as a society completely and totally hate. Let's make them useful. Let's use them to feed me!"

Kyle stared at him in shock, Stan stared at him in disgust and Kenny was feeling both at himself. He couldn't believe he actually said that. And he couldn't believe the crowd was going for it. He yelped when Sheila shoved him out of the way to regain control of the microphone coverage.

"He's right!" She started.

"Mom!" Kyle shouted, "Do you hear yourself! You're talking about feeding people to a zom-"

"Living impaired!"

"Whatever! It's not the right thing to do! Kenny, tell her you were joking!"

"I was….n't joking!" Kenny slapped his hands over his mouth in shock. He wanted to agree with Kyle, not disagree. What the fuck was going on? He uncovered his mouth again, "Beef and lamb, chicken and ham, step to the left and clap your hands! But God I really like human! Don't let it go to waste that fresh human!" He sang out before covering his mouth again in a panic.

Did he just sing a parody of Terrance and Phillip's chicken and ham song?

Oh fuck, he did!

Kyle tilted his head at Kenny in confusion, he looked like he knew something was wrong with the blonde but he wasn't sure what. The crowd laughed nervously and Wendy took the liberty of taking control of the situation.

"He's just joking everyone!" She assured, "Remember how much of a prankster he was? He's just making up for lost time and doesn't know when to stop." The people seemed to relax and laugh casually. "Now this…whatever it is…is over now so everyone, go back home or your jobs or whatever. I've got everything under control here and I assure you, I'll make sure Kenny won't pull such little pranks again. Mr. and Mrs. McCormick, I'm sure you two would like to see Kenny so if you'd like to follow us to my office?"

The couple nodded and Kenny went rigid. He wasn't planning on talking to his parents again so soon. Wendy shook Sheila's hand, thanked her for her time and basically told her to buzz off before discreetly inviting Stan and Kyle up to her office as well. Bebe carefully took Kenny by the shoulders and led him into the building, rubbing his back reassuringly as they got onto the elevator.

"Are you alright?" She asked when they were alone in the cube.

Kenny didn't answer for a minute before leaning against the back of the elevator, "I couldn't control my mouth." He stated, "And…I'm not ready to see my parents."

Bebe frowned, "You couldn't control your mouth?" She asked.

"Yeah…It….don't worry, I think I can fix it…." He replied dumbly. Kenny was pretty sure Damien was up to that little prank, though he wasn't sure why, and he'd confront the Anti Christ about it the next chance he got.

"Oh…kay…well, how about we get something in that stomach of yours before your parents come?" Bebe suggested as the elevator stopped and the doors slid open after a moment's hesitation.

"Yeah…Yeah, that's probably a good idea," Kenny agreed as he followed the young woman out and down the hall to Wendy's office and his patiently waiting cooler.


	17. Parents, Bad News, and Fights

_Disclaimer – I do not own South Park_

_Okey dokey, this is a heads up. Updates may be even more scarce due to the fact that I start community college on Monday (September 21__st__). This sucks because I may not be able to have as much writing time. But then again, I only have three classes, all of which spanning Monday – Thursday, so I have Fridays and weekends off. Until I get a job._

_I need a job._

* * *

It was definitely one of the most uncomfortable things he'd yet to experience in his unlife. Carol McCormick cried and sobbed every time she looked at him while his father simply stared in amazement, like he was a car accident. Devastating, depressing, frightening, and yet one couldn't look away. They both sat across from him, in chairs as he sat on a couch.

Stan and Kyle stayed in a corner of the room, Stan quietly talking to Wendy in harsh, argumentative whispers as Kyle looked absolutely heartbroken.

This whole thing was a car wreck.

Then Bebe bounced in, tray in hand with coffee cups, sugar packets, cream cups and stirrers. A water bottle was under one arm and a coffee pot in her free hand. She smiled, reminding Kenny of the days he spent with the bubbly blonde girl in high school. She fixed the coffee on Wendy's desk and forced it into everyone's hands, Kenny of course got the water bottle, before neatly sitting on the couch next to the undead blonde.

Stuart was the first to speak of Kenny's parents, and surprisingly, it comforted the zombie, "You got anything I can use to spice this up a bit?"

Bebe's smile stayed genuine as she glanced at Wendy before pressing her finger to her lips. She then lifted her skirt to reveal a lacy black garter around her mid thigh, which was used to strap a flask to her leg, "I had a feeling you were coming today, Mr. and Mrs. McCormick," She started, "And I know I wanted some of this when I first saw Kenny."

Stuart looked thankful when he accepted the flask, pouring at least half of the liquid into his coffee cup before Carol yanked it out of his hand. Instead of scolding him about being an alcoholic, she took a quick swig and wiped her mouth before looking at her son.

"Kenny, what happened to you?" Kenny frowned as his mother gave Bebe her coffee cup before moving to her knees to kneel in front of Kenny, her soft fingers carefully stroking his face and running along the stitches across his eye, "What happened, baby?"

Kenny felt like he was a little boy again. He wanted to lunge into his mother's arms and bury his face into her shoulder and tell her everything that was wrong with his life, just so she could tell him that life was one cruel bitch but he was special. That he was destined for big things and she knew. She had a feeling. And then she would ask him to make her favorite drink and they'd sit together in the quiet while she drank and he soaked up the comfort of her presence.

Instead, he stared blankly at her as she searched his eyes and he opened his mouth, trying to form words but failing miserably. Disappointment shown in his eyes and he finally managed to choke something out, "I'm such a fuck up, Mom."

"No, no you're not," Carol said in that scolding voice of hers, "You're just…in a complicated situation."

"I didn't mean to say those things," Kenny mumbled, "About liking to eat people…I mean…I do…like eating them but…I didn't-"

"Your sister is dying."

Kenny's head shot up to look at his father while Carol turned with a harsh expression and Bebe gasped quietly. Stuart McCormick kept his eyes fixated on his cup of coffee and liquor.

"What was that?" Kenny was finding it harder and harder to talk; his voice was low and broken.

"Karen. She's got that muscle thing you had when you were a kid and died from. Turns out it runs in the family. Never knew that's what your Grandpa died of."

"What? She's…no…you're fucking with me."

"She's at Hell's Pass now," Carol said quietly. "We wouldn't even have come if we didn't hear the rumors."

"Well, can I….Can I see her?" Kenny asked tentatively.

Carol smiled and gave his knee a pat, "Visiting hours are almost over today, but why don't you go see her tomorrow. I know she'd love it."

Kenny nodded slowly as he watched his mother get up with the help of his father. Both looked worn and tired and just older than they really were. Kenny awkwardly stood up, freezing in surprise when his father engulfed him in an embrace.

"'M glad to have you back, son."

Tentatively, Kenny wrapped his arms around his father, returning the hug. "Thanks, Dad."

Stuart cleared his throat, stepping back and giving Kenny a manly pat on the shoulder as Carol took her turn embracing the zombie, "Don't you dare not visit us," She commanded, "I'm already mad that you didn't tell us you were….alive to begin with."

"I thought Dad would get…you know…and then…you know…"

"That's no excuse," Carol snipped, "You know when it comes to you kids, your father is ask questions first, shotgun later."

"Yes, ma'am." Kenny replied, hugging back before Carol pulled away.

His parents gave him reassuring but forced smiles and made their way to Wendy, in order to thank her and inform her of their departure. Kenny glanced at Kyle, who gave him a quick glare before turning his attention to the town mayor. Stan slump his arm reassuringly around Kyle.

Kenny fell to the couch and glanced at Bebe. "They didn't give your flask back."

"I got it for them."

"Oh…Did you know? About Karen?"

Bebe bit her lip and nodded, avoiding Kenny's gaze, "Everyone in town knows. It's a bit of a blow; ever since you died…she…she kind of led a brigade against the lack of respect for the dead that rose through the years. She even established a yearly clean up day for the cemetery, where volunteers just…fixed it up, even if they didn't know the deceased. It gave the elderly hope, it got people thinking about themselves and how they'd be remembered. The crime rate went down because people don't want to be remembered as criminals…" She explained quietly, "Wendy really adored her. Still does."

"And this is what she gets," Kenny murmured, "Fuck….wait…what about Kevin? He's fine right?" Bebe continued to avoid his gaze. "Bebe?"

"He...He's gone, Kenny," She whispered, her eyes tearing up, "A year after your death. No one knows why, the autopsy was inconclusive."

"So what? They just fucking found him lying dead on his floor?" Kenny demanded, "And why the hell was I not told about this? Here I am, perfectly fine aside from being dead, getting reacquainted with the world and there were millions…billions…a fucking infinite amount of chances to pull me aside and say 'Kenny, man, I'm sorry but your brother is dead and your sister is on her way. You should probably visit her!'"

The room went quiet and all eyes were on him. Wendy looked greatly concerned, Stan seemed to have tightened his hold on Kyle and Kyle's brow was furrowed in deep thought.

"Kenny, it's not like that…"

"Yes, yes it is," The undead blonde shot to his feet, "I need some air." He grumbled, heading for the door and instinctively tugging his hood up.

"But you don't breathe!" Bebe called.

"Fuck you!" Kenny scooped up his cooler and slammed the door behind him.

He quickly made his way out of City Hall, caught off guard when people waved at him like nothing was wrong and continued doing whatever they were doing. He stormed down the street, heading to Tweak Brothers Coffee, for God knows why, but he was quickly stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He was abruptly turned around and met with the intense glare of Kyle Broflovski.

"What the fuck, Kenny," He growled, "You had no right to treat Bebe that way! After what she did for you…"

"Oh, right, because jumping back and forth between Stan and me is perfectly fine!" Kenny snapped.

Kyle's mouth dropped open in shock, "At least Stan cares about me," Kyle shot back, "Which is the least I could say about you. You lied to me about going to that lab and you act like this social butterfly and totally forget about me…us….and then today…"

"I couldn't fucking control my mouth, Kyle!"

"That doesn't explain everything else, Kenny!" Kyle snapped, "You know what? Forget it; I don't want to deal with your crap. You're obviously not concerned with me anymore so why bother."

Kenny growled as Kyle turned on his heel and stomped back towards the Hall, "That's right! Go back to that conniving bastard! God knows he's been planning to get rid of me since I got back!" He shouted, "This will be even better for him because you actually chose him _and_ he gets to see me fucking suffer! Good job, Kyle!"

Kenny turned around, ignoring the stares he was getting and stomped the rest of the way to Tweak Brothers. He loudly dropped his cooler onto the table, continuing to ignore the attention he was getting, though nervousness was billowing off nearby civilians. He jerked the lid of the little cooler open and his scowl quickly turned into a curious grimace.

Inside was a note, much like the ones Damien had sent before.

_The docks. Tonight. Midnight._

As soon as he finished reading it over three times the note caught fire like it did many times before.

At least he could tell Damien off for earlier.


	18. Damien, Choices, and Family

_Disclaimer – I do not own South Park._

_Three Day's Grace's OneX album is just filled with angsty zombie!Kenny-esque songs._

* * *

The sky was clear at Midnight, the moon shining brightly and becoming a great source of light for Kenny has he made his way to the docks. He was fairly annoyed that Damien insisted on such meetings but this was his chance to tell the Anti-Christ off for the little prank Kenny was positive he caused earlier, as well as inquire by the Devil's son possible hand at his brother's death.

The old wood creaked under Kenny but he knew it'd stay sturdy, just like it did all the other times because fate simply couldn't kill and rekill that which is already dead, right? Though sometimes Kenny wished that a stray pulled would hit him or a space station would crush his head in. He was getting really tired of all the drama that he was either causing or started because of his arrival.

Kenny paused, looking around the familiar area of where Damien had presented his plan via PowerPoint. He had no idea what time it was but he was pretty sure it was around midnight.

"You're three minutes late."

Kenny rolled his eyes but didn't turn around to look at Pip's most likely smug face, "Well 'The Docks' is a very vague location, you know." He replied.

"Oh shut up, you know this is where we'd be."

Kenny finally turned to see Pip, looking very smug, sitting on a crate, his feet dangling to reach the floor of the docks, "Alright, where's Damien?" Kenny asked, "I'd like to get this down and over with so I can go home and continue feeling like shit."

"He should be here any second, he had to pick something up."

Kenny eyed Pip suspiciously, "What'd he have to pick up?"

"Just some food," Pip hummed, "He said he needed it right before it expired."

"Right," Kenny said, completely disinterest.

He didn't really want to be here with Pip. Alone. Without Damien. Ever since that dream or whatever the hell it was, Pip sort of scared him. More than when you called Pip French in grade school. God, if he tried that now…

"Sorry I took so long," Pip perked and Kenny rolled his eyes and turned to look at Damien, ready to give him a mouthful, but the undead blonde froze completely at what was in the Anti-Christ's arms. "The things hospitals put in people to keep them alive, these days."

Karen.

She hung limply from Damien's arms, eyes closed and looking deathly pale. The only way Kenny knew she was alive was when a violent shiver ran through her body do to the cold and her wearing only a thin hospital gown. Her long brown hair blew in the chilled wind and Kenny snarled as she shivered again.

"What the fuck are you doing, put her back, she's going to die out here!"

Damien's smirk grew, "She's due to die at twelve fifteen anyway," He replied coyly, "But I figured, why not give you a chance?"

Kenny curled his hands into fists and glared, "A chance for what?"

"To let her continue her life," Damien replied, "…In a sense."

Kenny could feel his chest tighten as his eyes fell back to his little sister. Karen certainly grew since he last saw her. She was seventeen when he died and now she should've been just over twenty-one. He wasn't entirely sure of her age.

"You're saying I should bite her," Kenny said quietly, keeping his eyes on the young woman, "To see if she becomes like me."

"Yes, I am."

Kenny raised his eyes with an intent glare, "She'll be better in Hell than out here."

Damien's smirk seemed to grow, "Actually…" He started, "She won't. Every second of every day will be agonizing torture. And we'll tell her 'Your brother wanted this to happen to you' and it will just _kill_ her."

Pip giggled and snickered and Kenny shot the other blonde a glare before looking back at Damien, "You do realize you're offering one Hell for another." He said.

"Yes, but," Damien shifted his hold on Karen, "It won't be a Hell for you and your sister for long. Don't forget my plan and if you continue to be a good little boy."

Kenny hesitated. Karen was doing good in the world. She, unlike him and Kevin, was making a name for herself. She was making an impact. It wasn't fair for her to suddenly be forced to stop and everyone forget about her. He doubted she'd be remembered. She was a McCormick and it seemed like the whole family was known for dying young.

Besides, was it really fair of him to let her suffer in Hell when his biggest problems were relationships? She'd want this. She would. But…

"The clock's ticking…"

"What if she doesn't end up like me? What if she's mindless?" Kenny asked quietly, watching his limp sister warily.

"Then she'll be quickly disposed of and living like a VIP in Hell."

Kenny hesitated again before slumping his shoulders and giving Damien a look of defeat, "I don't really have a choice, do I?"

"No, no you don't," Damien replied, "But I like to make you think you do."

"It's true," Pip chirped.

Still reluctant and now nervous that this wouldn't work, that he'd have to watch his little sister's head get ripped off after making a display of being a mindless mess, consumed by hunger, Kenny held out his arms for Karen.

As Damien transferred her into his arms, Kenny realized that not only was this a huge risk on her part, but he might have to fight to control himself so he didn't eat her or something. It just had to be one little skin breaking bite.

He shifted her in her arms as she shivered again and Damien held up her arm for easier access, earning a growl from the blonde zombie and the Anti-Christ promptly ignored it. "It should take a couple minutes before she comes back."

Kenny swallowed nervously before lightly pressing his teeth against Karen's arm. He watched her face intently as he quickly bit down hard breaking skin and tasting blood fill his mouth. Quickly, he pulled away from her arm and spit out the blood onto the old wood of the docks.

The air became thick and silent as Damien, Pip and Kenny stared at Karen. Kenny tightened his grip on his little sister and Damien reached and felt her pulse.

"She's dead." The Anti-Christ announced.

"It's twelve fifteen," Pip confirmed.

"She's not even moving," Kenny said, actually feeling happy about this development.

"I told you," Damien snipped, "It should take a few-"

Pale brown eyes shot open and Karen opened her mouth, screaming in horror. Kenny instinctively shook her in his arms, "Karen! Karen!"

Karen's scream died down and she looked at her brother with wide eyes. If Kenny's heart was beating, it would've stopped as she hugged him around the neck tightly, "Kenny! Oh God, Kenny! I've missed you so much!"

"God had nothing to do with it."

Karen pulled away from her brother to peer at Damien, who was looking very pleased with the situation. "Who're you?"

"Damien," The Anti-Christ replied, offering a hand. "Your brother's….employer and friend." Kenny growled as Karen gingerly took Damien's hand and Pip joined in the growling when the black haired man kissed the young woman's hand politely. "And I hope you'd be willing to help him with his work."

Karen pulled her hand back, discretely wiping it on her hospital gown, "Me? Do what?" She asked carefully before looking at Kenny in alarm, "Kenny! You're…"

"Dead." Kenny replied shortly, softly, "You are too."

"No," Karen laughed nervously, "I'm not…I'm…I should be at the hospital…Kenny, did you take me out of the hospital?! I could get worse and-"

"Karen," Kenny interrupted, "Try to breathe."

Karen tried. It as an obvious show of it too. "Oh...Oh dear."

"I'll let you two have a few days to adjust to this new development," Damien stated in a business tone, flipping a card out of his pocket and gently putting it into Karen's hand, "Feel free to contact me if you have any questions. Pip."

Pip hopped down from his crate and flounced over to Damien, looking very peeved. He stuck his tongue out at Karen just before he and the Anti-Christ disappeared in a cloud of black smoke.

Kenny gingerly set Karen down, pulling off his orange hoodie and handing it to her so she didn't have to run around with her back showing due to the gown. She pulled it on silently before looking down at her feet, wiggling her toes.

"I don't feel cold."

"You don't feel a lot physically," Kenny replied. "C'mon, I'm staying with a friend; he'll surrender some clothes for you."

Karen grabbed onto Kenny's arm and walked alongside him, apparently still amazed at their current state of being. Her hand drifted down to his and she silently played with the stitching across his palm.

"Kenny?"

"Mmm?"

"What are we?"

"…We're simply living impaired, Karen."


	19. Karen, The Mole, and Uncomfortableness

_Disclaimer – I do not own South Park_

* * *

Kenny peeked into the apartment, his little sister clinging to his arm and wasn't at all surprised to see Mole, video game controller in his hand, sitting casually on the futon and smoking a cigarette. The brunette looked up at his undead houseguest…more like roommate now, and raised an eyebrow.

"Enjoy your walk?"

Kenny nodded slightly, "Yeah…but…uhm…what would you think about someone else maybe staying with us?"

Mole's eyes flashed, his nose flared and he abandoned the controller, getting to his feet, "Who."

It wasn't a question.

Kenny cautiously stepped in, tugging Karen with him. She apparently didn't get rid of her habit of hiding behind others when shy since she was using Kenny as a shield, her tiny form barely seen and she was standing on her tip-toes to peer over Kenny's shoulder.

"My little sister, Karen," Kenny answered, straightening up and looking ready to fight if he had to, "And…thanks to unseen circumstances…she's like me now."

Christophe flickered at the woman, looking curious but still intimidating and Karen tightened her grip on Kenny's shoulder. After a painful moment of silence, he held out his hand to shake. Tentatively, Karen came out of hiding, glanced at Kenny, who nodded in encouragement, and carefully took Christophe's hand to shake.

"Sorry, still kinda…confused…." She mumbled.

"Quite all right, mademoiselle," Mole replied with a sense of softness that both startled and scared Kenny. He'd never seen this side of Mole before and he wasn't sure how to feel about it coming out for his sister. "We cannot 'ave you walking around in 'zat ratty sweater and hospital garments, 'zough. I shall get you some'zing better."

And with that he turned on his heel and went to his room.

"My hoodie isn't ratty!" Kenny called after him in annoyance.

Karen giggled slightly, "He seemed kinda tough at first," She said.

"Usually he is, I dunno what crawled out of his ass all of the sudden…" Kenny glanced at his little sister and frowned, "C'mere," He commanded, taking her hand and dragging her to the kitchen, where the light was at its brightest.

Karen straightened and tilted her head up when Kenny gingerly took her face in his hands. He lightly ran his fingers under here eyes, where the skin was already darkening on her cold pale features. Her eyes didn't shine with the familiar warmth of life and her lips were pale. All in all, she wasn't as discolored as he was since she was a recent death.

"How're you feeling?" He asked.

"Fine," Karen replied, "Normal except for the being dead part. And I'm kinda thirsty."

Kenny moved to the fridge, opening it and getting her a bottle of water. Karen drank greedily as Christophe returned with an arm full of clothes and set them on the table, watching the siblings silently.

Karen crushed the bottle in her hand once it was empty and smiled at Christophe, "Are those for me to wear?" The Mole nodded and Karen gathered the clothes in her arms, "Bathroom?"

"To the left," Kenny replied.

Karen nodded and trotted to the bathroom, leaving the technically older zombie leaning against the kitchen counter looking wary. The Mole stood across from him, arms crossed over his chest and with a mildly concerned look on his face.

"You bit your sister."

"I didn't have a choice."

"'Zere is always a choice." Christophe countered, "She is…was young."

"She was dying and if I didn't, she'd be tortured way more than anyone else, right now." Kenny growled, "I had to. And she's not complaining, is she?"

There was a moment of silence as the Mole glanced towards the bathroom, "She doesn't seem like 'ze type to complain."

Kenny winced, knowing full well that the mercenary before him was completely correct on that part. Kenny and Kevin would complain occasionally during their childhood but they never heard a peep out of Karen. She was well behaved on that part. She was actually way more behaved than her brothers.

"You're right," Kenny muttered.

Karen emerged sheepishly from the bathroom, wearing a black shirt that was usually almost snug on Mole but fell loosely to just above her knee. Under that, she wore a pair of cargo shorts, the only thing the mercenary could find that wouldn't have the poor girl tripping. Kenny guessed that she had to hold the shorts up with a belt at its tightest level and her thin legs shot out of the legs of the shorts.

"Feeling a little better?" Kenny asked.

Karen nodded and a wan smile, tucking some hair behind her ear. "Mom and Daddy aren't going to be happy when they find out I disappeared." She stated quietly.

Kenny shrugged, "Wanna leave them a voice mail?"

"Are you sure…"

"Would I have offered otherwise?"

Karen nodded, sitting down in a chair at the dining table and Mole slid his cell phone across the table to her. She smiled in thanks and dialed the familiar number of their parents' home.

She waited as it rang, nipping her bottom lip before straightening up, most likely waiting to leave her message. "Hi Mom…Daddy…its Karen. If you haven't found out yet, I'm not at the hospital anymore. I'm fine though, I'm with Kenny." Her voice grew more depressed as she gripped the cell phone, "I'm not entirely sure what's going on, but I think he gave me a second chance. I'll talk to you," She glanced up at Kenny and he mouthed a word to her, "Tomorrow. I'll talk to you tomorrow and we'll try to figure things out." She blinked instinctively even though there were no tears, "I love you."

Karen hung up the phone and lamely offered it back to Christophe, who silently took it back. Kenny shifted uncomfortably before going to the fridge, getting what he was pretty sure was a human liver and slopped it on a paper plate before setting it in front of his little sister.

"Eat." He commanded, "I've got a lot to explain."

* * *

It was one of the weirdest things Kenny had ever seen in his unlife.

Christophe, the Mole, the guy who killed and did all kinds of not nice things for a living was being…_sweet_, and if that wasn't it was alarming enough. It was towards a girl. It was towards Karen.

Kenny had no idea how to take this. He was baffled since one of the first things the Mole had said to him after agreeing to move in was that "Women are all lying whores who try to cheat out life and nature herself" and the last time Kenny checked, Karen was a form of woman. Not that he liked to think of her as one. It was especially hard to when she looked so tiny in Mole's clothes.

Ugh, nasty thoughts.

"Please, please, _please_ tell me you're not hitting on my dead little sister," Kenny begged as he wiped his face from his 'breakfast'.

Christophe sat across from him, smoking a cigarette and reading a newspaper, hair disheveled from the hour long nap he took. Karen was in the bathroom, carefully brushing her pale hair after having announced 'Just because we're dead doesn't mean we have to look it'.

"Do I look like a necrophile to you, Kenny?" The French accented man asked, slightly amused.

"You hang around dead people enough," Kenny quipped, idly thinking that he was glad he killed Red a while back.

That guy and his sister?

Fuck no.

"Kenny, we are friends, non?"

Kenny straightened at that, it was fairly frightening to hear the Mole talk like this. It made him human. It put Kenny on the edge and simply made him more suspicious of the living man. Like Mole was buttering him up.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Kenny asked, "You're treating her way better than me. You've yet to threaten her about your room or windows or whatever the hell it was that caused you to threaten to kill me!"

"…Are you jealous?"

"No!" Kenny rushed out before abruptly standing, "I have no reason to be jealous and I do not approve of your…your….possible courting of my sister. She's going threw a lot right now and it's just wrong. Asshole." Kenny stomped to the bathroom and rapped on the door, "Mom and Dad aren't going to wait forever, you know!"

"Keep your pants on!" Karen snapped, though in good nature before opening the door, "I'm done."

"Good, lets go."

Kenny made move for the door and Karen followed, shoeless. She stopped, giving Christophe a small smile and wave, "I think my parents have some of my clothes and might let me stay with them so I won't have to mooch off you anymore."

The Mole waved her off, "Mademoiselle, it is a pleasure to 'ave you and do not feel as 'zough you are a bo'zer. If anyone is, I 'zink we can agree that it is Kenny."

Kenny glared at flipped the Frenchmen off before taking his snickering sister's hand and dragged her out the door to face the inevitable.

"Are you going to be fine walking barefoot?" Kenny asked curiously.

Karen smiled and wiggled her toes as they stopped at a crosswalk, "I can't feel anything," She chirped.

"Still, must be uncomfortable, we'll see if Mom has some of your shoes."

"How do you think they'll act?" Karen asked as they continued their walk.

Kenny shrugged, a frown on his face, "Hopefully not negatively."


	20. Parents, WoW, and A Woman's Touch

_Disclaimer – I do not own South Park_

_Yay rushing this out before I run off to class. 8D_

* * *

"Kenny McCormick, what the hell did you do to your sister?!"

"She was due to die at twelve fifteen and I couldn't just let her!" Kenny argued as his mother looked torn between being pissed off and thankful.

Stuart was looking over his daughter curiously, inspecting her much like Kenny had at the apartment, "She ain't as…blue as you."

"Because I got her when she was fresh."

"Don't make 'er sound like fruit!" Carol snapped, grabbing her son by the sleeve and dragging him to the old couch.

Kenny knew that when his mother's accent became more prominent, she was pissed.

The McCormick household didn't change at all. The walls were still peeling despite the lack of wall paper, the furniture was still stain covered and half broken thanks to wrestling matches between Kevin and Kenny, and the TV still had bunny ears. The only thing different was that there were a lot more pictures of he and his siblings on the walls, some his parents weren't even around to take. If they even had a camera.

A loose couch spring poked Kenny in the butt and he made a face as he squirmed into a more comfortable position while his mother stared him down. "Now how on Earth did you think that biting your sister was okay?" She demanded, "Did you even ask?!"

"Well, no," Kenny mumbled.

"Did you know she'd be like you?"

"Not exactly…"

"Aren't you happy I'm still around?" Karen asked, Stuart still studying her intensely.

Carol sighed helplessly, "It ain't that, baby, we're happy you're still….here…but…"

"I'm happy," Karen reassured with a soft smile, "I'm glad Kenny did this for me, and he says he's tryin' to find a way to get us back so when he does, we'll both be good as new. Besides," She grabbed Stuart's hand, stopping him from tilting her head every which way, "We can't really have you two be depressed about _three_ dead kids."

Carol went silent and Kenny internally proclaimed Karen as the best fucking sister in the world despite using the 'Your oldest son is dead and not like us' card. The room grew silent and tense before Stuart clapped his daughter on the shoulders, clearing his throat to break the awkward tension.

"I assume you'll be stayin' with your brother?"

"If you want," Karen said hesitantly, quickly glancing over to her mother.

Carol glanced up at her, a somewhat lost expression on her face, "Stick with Kenny, he understands what's goin' on and how to deal with whatever side affects there are."

Kenny shifted, he'd explained to Karen what would happen if she didn't eat every so often and the look on her face was that of terror. It made Kenny feel completely guilty. She quickly brushed it off though and said that she'd be able to handle it. She was simply trading PMS for this, something that caused her brother to 'ew'. He hadn't, however, told their parents about the negatives of being living impaired.

Damn observant Mom.

Carol stood up and ushered her daughter to the back of the small house in order to collect her clothes and shoes. Stuart ambled over to his son, sitting down with a sigh, "Now, this friend you two are staying with…"

"Is a genuine guy who hates to be touched and doesn't like women," Kenny lied.

Sorta.

Actually, he was now completely confused on the Mole's stance with the opposite sex.

"Good."

Kenny grinned and shrugged; "Besides, if he does anything, I'll eat him."

"That's my boy."

* * *

"Where's Christophe?"

Kenny looked up from his relaxed position on the futon. They had run out of zombie games so Mole had supplied each member of the small apartment's household with a nice little laptop, World of Warcraft already installed for the playing. At the moment Kenny was building up his Undead's level. He didn't make the character, Mole did and he apparently thought using such a character would be ironic.

Kenny could care less though, he wasn't in the mood to create something else at the moment.

"He's not online." The blonde mumbled.

Karen, who had been on a full on cleaning spree since what Kenny did wasn't good enough for her, smacked her older brother with a dusting cloth and gave him a scolding look, "Would you step away from that stupid thing for one second?"

"But that would be rejecting Mole's kind gift," Kenny complained, "And that's not nice," Karen rolled her eyes, "Besides, he's probably out doing a job or something."

Karen frowned, "Well I hope he's okay…"

"No."

"What?"

Kenny glared up at his little sister, "No. So wrong. No. Or you're grounded."

"Excuse me?" Karen asked venomously, cocking her hip to her side and resting her hands on both hips in a sign of dominance.

"You're not going to date him, flirt with him, anything him! And call him Mole! That's his name!"

"His actual name _is_ Christophe, Kenny," Karen snapped, "He _asked_ me to call him that."

Kenny frowned, staring at the screen of his new computer, "He never asked _me_ to call him Christophe," He stated in a pouting tone.

Karen rolled her lifeless eyes again, "Kenny-"

She jumped and yelped when the door shot open, revealing a dirty, sweaty and fairly pissed off looking Frenchman. The Mole stormed in, dragging his precious shovel behind him, the smoke from his cigarette trailing lightly behind him as he walked.

"Bad day at the mill?" Kenny asked casually, continuing on with his work of leveling up his character.

"Fucking guard dogs tore my favorite fucking pants," The Mole grumbled.

It wasn't unusual that he would bitch about one specific thing that wouldn't give away details of his dirty and most likely illegal job. Usually it had to pertain to guard dogs. The guy always hated them, especially after they caused his death. Which was also why he hated Eric Cartman but everyone hated that guy.

"You're not hurt, are you?" Karen asked, carefully looking the Frenchman over from a distance for injuries.

"Non."

"Yes, I'm up to level thirty!"

"Sheet."

Karen ignored her brother and examined the torn cargo pants, a large gaping hole and the Mole's boxer clad rear greeted her, "I could fix those, you know." Christophe looked at her in mild curiosity, "And I'm better than Kenny at sewing, I think. He's a bit sloppy."

"Hey! You make it sound like I failed Home Ec."

"You almost did," Karen replied coolly before pointing at Mole's pants, "Off."

Grudgingly, the Mole kicked his shoes off and tugged off his pants before handing them to the undead woman. Karen smiled sweetly and took the sewing kit she had placed by the kitchen, in case of emergencies, before sitting down next to her big brother and silently began to mend the behind of the pants.

The Mole ambled around the apartment, noting how nice it looked and glanced at Karen, "You did 'zis?"

"Mmhmm," She replied cheerfully, "I hope you don't mind."

"I warned her you get a little pissy," Kenny added, "She wouldn't listen."

"It's nice." The Frenchman complimented casually before glancing down at the younger McCormick, ignoring Kenny's shocked expression, "You don't have to do 'zat. I can find a new pair."

"Its fine," Karen replied, "you won't even noticed they're stitched up, see?" She held up what she had so far and Christophe leaned curiously over her shoulder, appraising the pants. He nodded slowly before offering a slight smile.

Kenny feared that if this continued, he'd have to eat his friend.

"'Zank you, Karen. I appreciate it."

"Well, after all that you're doing for me and my brother, it's the least I could do." Karen replied brightly.

Kenny felt sick listening to this.

And he also really missed Kyle.

* * *

_I suppose this is...like...a segue chapter or something. I don't know. Ahahahaha I fail._


	21. Lunch, Recollection, and A Pager

_Disclaimer – I do not own South Park_

_Sorry about the super slow updates, they're going to get a bit scarcer due to my getting a part time job (In which I work two hours a week for min wage. Sigh.). December though, I have three weeks off from school so…_

* * *

Grouchily poking at his raw steak, Kenny tried to ignore the scolding words he was getting from the women sitting across the table from him.

When he came home from helping the local cattle farmer 'deal' with a sick cow, he was promptly shoved into the shower and then into a suit and tie by his little sister. After that torture was done, Karen, wearing a modest dress, dragged her older brother out into the snow and met up with Bebe, who was not as modest as Karen, at the nicest restaurant in town.

He knew they had an ulterior motive and as soon as they sat down, he found out. And had been hearing about it ever since.

"When I talked to Bebe, she told me what you said and that really wasn't nice, Kenny," Karen scolded, glaring at her brother over her own raw steak, "Especially when she told me about what Kyle told her about the talk he had with you after you found out I was in the hospital."

Kenny blinked at the brunette zombie, chewing his food slowly as he tried to connect the dots of that last sentence before perking, "Whatever the fuck that asshole told you is a lie!"

"Kenny," Karen scolded, "Do you want us to get kicked out?"

"I didn't even want to come! Mole's probably getting more level ups that I am as we speak!" The blonde replied, tugging at his tie.

"Could you for once shut up about that game?" Karen asked in exasperation, "I'm sick of seeing you moping around and hiding all of your hurt in that stupid computer game!"

"I don't mope!" Kenny argued, thinking for a moment, "And I'm not hurt! I'm fine. And dandy. Fine and dandy, that's me."

Bebe sighed and rolled her eyes as Karen scowled, "Your character looks just like Kyle if he were a zombie."

"Living impaired," The blonde corrected.

Karen made an agitated sound and Bebe stared at her coffee. A thick silence fell upon the small table. Kenny tugged grudgingly at his tie and chewing on his raw meat as Karen poked at her own meal restlessly.

Bebe glanced at the siblings curiously. "What's it like?" She asked.

The McCormick's stopped to give her a critical look before glancing at each other thoughtfully.

"Well," Karen began since Kenny had simply shoved more meat into his mouth, "At first I kept trying to breathe. It was strange, because I never noticed it until my body was struggling to start the habit over again. I've been fine but Kenny says there are worse…uhm…symptoms."

Bebe glanced at the blonde curiously and he made a noise of annoyance before straightening up, "I felt completely the same at first. Like I always do when I wake up, though confused that I was in a coffin." He started, "But...the most I remember is the insatiable need to eat. This guy…he shot himself at the sight of me and just the smell…and then when that Goth kid…" Kenny cut himself off quickly, recalling that nobody really knew what he did and he ignored the intense look Karen was giving him.

"I remember feeling like that," Bebe whispered, causing Kenny to frown intently, "No one else seems to remember that Halloween in third grade…you were acting strange, Kenny. You weren't well. And you bit Clyde. And he bit me. And all I could remember after that was being just so hungry. I had nightmares for weeks, it was one of the scariest experiences of my life."

"I remember that," Kenny replied, recalling how uncontrolled he was. And the look in Kyle's eyes before the redhead killed him, filled with relentless determination.

"I don't," Karen piped up and Kenny glanced up at his little sister.

"You were visiting family outta state, remember?"

Karen nodded carefully with a look of remembrance and Kenny turned his attention back to Bebe, "Are you the only one who remembers?"

Bebe sighed and nodded, "Wendy can't recall, neither can Clyde nor anyone else for that matter." She replied, "Clyde is convinced I had caught pink eye from him and became delirious."

"Interesting…" Kenny glanced at the two women, his mind reeling.

Bebe, it sounded like, was semi-aware. Not too much since she was so consumed with the need to eat, but enough to remember. He'd say it was because of him, but it was in fact Clyde Donavon who bit the blonde woman. So either Clyde remembered and wasn't speaking or Bebe was just a lucky hit. Perhaps one out of so many became aware? If that were the case, it wouldn't be that bad since he was like Bebe that first time, right? Then again, he had bitten Karen and she came back just fine. She was aware, thinking, making snarky comments, taking care of him…

Kenny had to wonder if anyone else would be the same if he bit them.

Perhaps a specific redhead.

He knew it would work. He was positive. Nothing would go wrong and he and Kyle would be together and happy. But…did he want to take that risk?

His basic, animalistic instincts constantly reminded him that Kyle was his, not Stan's. And he was sick and tired of letting the living man do what he wanted with _his_ Kyle.

So did he want to take the risk?

Yes, yes he did.

Kenny ignored the curious looks he got from Bebe and Karen as he stood up, loosened his tie and marched out of the restaurant, continuing to ignore the women when they called after him. No, he was dead set on this and neither of them would stop him. Everyone he passed on the street didn't register in his mind and he barely heard any form of greeting he'd get. He continued like this until he was outside the familiar house, hands gripping at the little fence as he ignored Boitano's barks. He moved closer to the gate, unable to rip his eyes off the front door even though he had no idea if Kyle was even home. Continuing to ignore Boitano, he made his way to the door, sure that if he was alive his heart would be racing.

The ring of the doorbell echoed in his ears and moments later, the door opened to reveal a surprised and then quickly irate Kyle Broflovski.

One word rang out in Kenny's mind.

_Mine_.

"What do you want, Kenny?" Kyle asked coldly.

"To be with you," The blonde replied automatically.

"Bullshit," The redhead snapped, closing the door.

Kenny stopped the door, holding it open while giving Kyle an intense look, "I'm serious," The zombie growled, "I need you with me. I don't want you with Stan anymore, you're _mine_."

Kyle gave Kenny an offended look, "And what the fuck makes you think I'm _yours_, Kenny?" He shot, "Because if being yours means being treated like _shit_ and then hearing nothing from you for…fuck, I'm so pissed right now."

"I'm going to make everything better."

"And how the fuck are you going to do that?" Kyle snipped.

Kenny reached out the grab the redhead, to pull him close, to bite him, but he snapped out of his intent…trance, was it? He wasn't sure if it was a trance or determination or instincts but the feel of something falling into his pocket stopped him and instead of grabbing Kyle and biting as hard as possible, he silently reached into his pocket and pulled out a black pager. He twisted it to look at the small screen, surprised to find a message.

_Don't. Go 2 Bebe's. Danger._

What?

"…Who the hell uses a pager anymore?"

Kenny glanced from the pager to Kyle to the pager again. "I…I'll explain later," He mumbled, "I have to go…Can we…Can we talk later?"

Kenny wasn't sure if it was the tone in his voice or what, but Kyle's expression quickly became concerned. "Is everything okay?" He asked, glancing quickly at the pager.

"I…don't know yet, just…can I call you?" Kyle nodded slowly and Kenny smiled weakly, "Thank you, as soon as everything's taken care of. Tonight. I promise."

And with that he ran.

Once again he ignored people, pushing them aside if they were in the way, and reached the apartment complex that belonged to Bebe Stephens quickly. He was thankful that it was about halfway between Kyle's house and the restaurant and he stumbled quickly up the steps before staring at the doors, desperately trying to remember which one was hers.

Other than knocking on a random door, he opted to yell out her name.

A door on the far left flung open and her blonde curls poked out, a worried look on her face, "Kenny? What's wrong? Karen went home a bit ago."

He rushed to her, grabber her upper arms and looking her over. "You're okay." He stated, still in concern.

"Why wouldn't I be?" She asked in a tone that clearly said she thought he had gone mad.

"I-I got a page," He replied, pulling out the pager to show her.

She wrinkled her nose at the device, "Who the hell uses a pager anymore?"

"I…well…" The device beeped, making the two blondes jump and Kenny fumbled to look at the screen, Bebe squishing against him to read it as well out of curiousity.

_Tell her._

The pair glanced at each other and Kenny quickly averted his eyes, "Damien," He muttered and she gasped.

"You mean that creepy freak from school? Why is he talking to you?"

"He's the Anti-Christ and the reason I'm like this, the reason I have to do some stuff, like 'come out' to the town and everything," Kenny replied dully. "I really don't know why he wants me to tell you though…"

Bebe made a noise of understanding and a ringing of a telephone echoed out of her apartment. She quickly rubbed Kenny's arm, "Be right back, I gotta answer that."

Kenny nodded and watched her disappear into the home, leaving the door open. He was relieved to find her okay but it worried him that the page said 'danger' and then the second told him to tell her about Damien. He was afraid that the Anti-Christ had plans for the blonde woman.

And his worries were confirmed at the beep of the pager.

_Bite her._


	22. Bitten, Chaos, and Order

_Disclaimer – I do not own South Park_

_Oh my goodness, it's been forever and ever since I updated. I got sick and stuff and…oi…Oh, and my cosplay is sloooowly taking progress. There will be videos. :3_

* * *

It was one of the most terrifying things Kenny had ever experienced outside of his own body.

He had bitten Bebe, and after she recovered and slapped him, she went on a rampage. Her neighbor was right outside the open door and he had received a paper cut from his mail. As soon as a single drop oozed out, Bebe snapped and attacked before Kenny could react. He was pushing down his own urges, able to resist with experience, when she was ripping out the poor guy's throat. When he called out her name to try and snap her out of it, Bebe looked at him, her eyes milky but with a look of rage, and growled in an animalistic tone. She was hunched over the body, the man gurgling and drowning his own blood as his eyes searched for some form of help.

Kenny's instincts told him he was a dead man.

His stomach ached to eat flesh and organs.

Before he could catch her, Bebe bounded down the stairs and into the street, immune to the cold as she ran in a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top with nothing to protect her feet. Kenny growled in frustration and panic as he quickly made his way after her.

He was closing in on her when she flung herself at who Kenny recognized as Chris Stotch, Butters' father. He screamed in agony as Bebe tore at him. Kenny, still running at full speed, wrapped his arms around her waist and managed to tug her off the older man. He held her back as she flailed and fought against him and stared in horror as Mr. Stotch gripped his throat, eyes wide and life fading fast, and fell to his knees.

"Why?" He asked, the words coming out in a gurgle of blood, before collapsing completely.

Kenny's arms went limp at that and Bebe lunched at the body, eating hungrily. He didn't know what to do so he fell to his knees near the other blonde and stared at the scene hopelessly.

Bebe glanced at him and grunted, putting her blood covered hand at the back of his head and shoving him forward towards the body. "Eat." She commanded.

He obeyed.

* * *

He sat up and ignored the soft groan next to him. Looking around, he wasn't at all sure where he was but he was quite positive it was a warehouse. The dim lights revealed crates upon crates, towering him and filling the building. Glancing next to him, Bebe was pushing herself up on to her palms from a lying position on her stomach. There was a shift to the right and he tilted his head, confused to see Karen shifted into conciousness as well.

He could understand he and Bebe blacking out and waking up somewhere else, but Karen?

Unless…

Kenny scrambled to his feet, keeping a crouched and guarded position as he turned, searching. His lip curled up as he growled and his knuckles cracked.

"Damien, you fucking bastard, get out here!" He shouted, his voice echoing.

"Don't you dare speak to him like that!"

Kenny gasped as he was shoved forward and stumbled a few steps. He turned around and there was Pip, smirking at him with his hip cocked to the side and his hand placed on it in a pose that established that he was queen bitch. Bebe had scooted quite a bit away from the blonde, eyes wide as she looked around without a clue as to where she was and Karen's expression was more curious than anything.

"You knew," Kenny growled, "You knew that was going to happen and you had me do it anyway. What are you playing at?"

"We're not playing," Pip replied casually, "This isn't a game. You knew so from the beginning and you continue to do whatever we want. This isn't a game, but you are our toy." He straightened up, "Now, down to business."

"I'm not doing anything for you anymore," Kenny snapped, "And don't you even think of including Karen and Bebe."

Bebe shot Kenny a glare, "So _now_ you care about my wellbeing?!" She shouted.

"Bebe, this isn't the time…"

"No, Kenny, I think it's the perfect time," Bebe snapped.

Pip let out an amused laugh, "I can wait for this."

"No, no," Karen snapped, getting to her feet and making sure she was between the two blondes, "We are not waiting for this. I want to know what's going on and why I'm here."

"Party pooper," Pip complained while crossing his arms in a pout, "But, if we must get on to business…"

"Yes. Please go on." Karen replied, shooting the undead blondes a warning glare.

"I'm stalling you."

Kenny blinked, "What?"

"Yup. Bebe bit two people. You both disemboweled one, but he should be put together enough to get up again." Pip replied casually.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.

Bebe looked miserable upon hearing that and Karen stared at the her and Kenny in complete disbelief. Kenny tried to organize his emotions and pray that he didn't get overwhelmed and black out.

Alright. Anger, that's the big one at the moment.

"You used us?" Kenny looked at Bebe, who was shaking and glaring at Pip, "You ruined my life and used me and…"

"It's not like it's the end of the world…." Pip thought for a moment before grinning, "Actually it sort of is."

* * *

Chaos.

Kenny gripped Karen and Bebe's hands as they watched the massacre on Main Street. Zombies were flinging themselves at the living, tearing into flesh and ripping out organs. Blood and tears spilled into street drains as screams echoed into the night along with the sounds of crunching metal and broken glass.

One zombie staggered by, glanced at them and performed a quick salute before staggering towards a screaming woman.

"McCormick!"

Kenny turned his head curiously only to have a fist push it back towards the direction he was originally facing. Bebe let out a scream in reaction and Kenny felt Karen manage to hold him up. He stared at his offender in shock, only earning a glare from the Mole.

"Dude, what the fuck?!"

The Frenchman's glare intensified, "'Zis is all your fault!" He shouted before spinning around and swinging his shovel into the skull of a zombie before whirling on the three sane dead people, "I should 'ave killed you when I 'ad ze chance!"

"What are you talking about?! You said you wouldn't have killed me because I wasn't mindless!" Kenny shouted back.

"Oh yes, and 'zat is why 'zere's a town full of zombies! I should 'ave killed you, Kenny, I 'vas preparing just in case, but I let myself trust Kyle's word!" The man growled.

"Christophe, you don't mean that!" Karen scolded, clinging onto Kenny's arm, whether it was to restrain Kenny or herself, the blonde wasn't sure.

"You wouldn't be like 'zis if I 'ad killed him." Christophe retorted.

"I'd be dead!"

"You'd be 'appier!" He snapped, "'Zat bastard God would've let you into 'Eaven, Karen."

Karen's grip tightened on Kenny's arm as she frowned. Kenny furrowed his brow and glared at the Frenchman. "Don't talk to my sister." He ordered. Mole's eyes flashed dangerously and the grip on his shovel tightened considerably at that and Kenny took a threatening step forward, his mouth instinctively starting to snarl.

"He's right, Kenny."

The two men glanced at Bebe, who stood glaring at the blonde threateningly, "If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have caused this mess."

"Bebe it wasn't yo-"

"Shut up." She growled.

"Bebe," Karen started gently, "Let's talk about this."

"You might be thankful for your 'second chance at life'," Bebe snapped with air quoting, "But I had a life. I was happy and successful, Karen. I did nothing but help Kenny and look at what I got for it."

"We can fix this, Bebe," Karen urged, "Kenny can fix this."

Too much.

"No he can't!"

"Yes, he can, I know it!"

Way too much.

"Just because he's your big brother doesn't mean he can solve all your problems!"

"I say we just kill 'im!"

Too loud, too angry, too demanding…it's all too much.

"Go ahead," Bebe allowed.

"No!" Karen snapped.

He couldn't take it.

"Will you all just STOP!" Kenny shouted as loud as possible.

Silence.

The small group of four glanced around and went rigid. They were surrounded by zombies, silently watching them in attention, as if they were soldiers awaiting orders. All dull eyes were focused on Kenny.

In the distance, a woman's whimpering screams faded.

Laughter filled the air.

* * *

_Wow, it feels good posting this. _

_I love you all!_

_And I'd love you more if you give me reviews!_

_Mwah!_


	23. Electricity, Death, and Weakness

_Disclaimer – I do not own South Park_

_So it's been…FOREVER since I updated this fic. And it would be longer but Inasaku was kind enough to rekindle my creativity with her own awesome creativity. THANK HER. THAAAAAANK HER._

_Also, I apologize in advance._

* * *

Electricity filled the air.

It was that same thick, dangerous feeling the atmosphere got before a big lightening storm. The air blurred, making things at a distance look distorted and frightening. It made Kenny feel as though he was ready to spontaneously combust in any second due to the electricity of the air and the friction of his suddenly dry and stiff feeling clothes.

It was sickening.

Through the distortion of the air was the aching sound of marching, growing as it approached the small group.

Karen clung to her brother's arm. If it weren't her, he would've pushed her away out of fear of lighting up and exploding on contact. Bebe's body wracked with shivers that her dead nerves didn't cause due to the snow. She was visibly frightened and shifted ever-so-slightly towards the Mole, who tightened his grip on his shovel so much that the old thing could've splintered at any moment.

At least a dozen skeletal soldiers in roman armor approached them through the parting crowds of the dead. They stared ahead with empty sockets and dragged a heavy stone carriage behind them. At the driver's wheel was Pip, whip in hand as he towered dominantly over the soldiers. He cracked the whip against their unfeeling skulls every-so-often and laughed.

They slowed and Kenny pushed his little sister protectively behind him.

The carriage and the bones of the soldiers creaked and groaned as they stopped and a wooden door at the side of the carriage was kicked open before the familiar young man stepped out. Pip quickly joined his side, giddy when a pale arm wrapped around the blonde's waist.

Damien smirked at the group, looking very pleased.

"Good job, Mr. McCormick. You've been very obedient. I'll make sure that your little friend in Hell is taken off the racks." He addressed. Kenny suppressed a growl and tensed as Damien stepped closer, untangling himself from Pip, and took the blonde's chin in his grasp. "Now all you have to do is finish the job and I'll make sure that little Jew is yours and no one else's."

Several feelings tore into Kenny when he heard that statement. A voice in his head hissed that Kyle _was_ his and that anyone who thought otherwise would die a painful death. And Damien was one of those threats.

Another voice told him that he should just listen to the Anti-Christ because there was no hope of stopping him anyway. He planned for everything.

And yet, a small voice said that there was hope. That everything would work out.

"What do you want me to do?" Kenny mumbled, pushing aside the complaints of the other two voices and deciding that there was no hope.

"Take it all. Take over the States. Then the continent. Then the world." Damien replied. "As you do that, I will become leader of the survivors. I will fill them with trust and hope and reign over the living and the dead. Just as long as you do your part."

"And I get Kyle."

"Yes."

"Kenny, what are you-"

"Not now, Karen," Kenny snapped before looking back at Satan's son. "And Stan?"

"He'll no longer be an issue."

"Kenny!"

"Shut up, Karen!"

Then the unthinkable happened.

Karen McCormick shoved her brother aside and lunged for Damien. The Anti-Christ casually snapped his fingers and she made a sound as though gasping for air before collapsing a few inches from him. She clawed at the ground, trying to get a handle on her body.

Time froze in Kenny's mind. He watched his sister for what seemed like lifetimes as she struggled but his body was just as frozen as time. He couldn't even find his voice. Next to him, he heard a noise and watched as the Mole broke through time, swinging his shovel for Damien's head with the intent to kill. At the last moment, Damien pushed the shovel away, grabbing the handle above the spade and twisting it out of the mercenary's hands before impaling the brunette with the pointed gardening tool.

Blood splattered everywhere except for on Damien as time caught up with itself. The scent was sickening but no one lunged to eat the man as the light quickly faded from his eyes while he fell to his knees.

Karen's body lurched back into her control and she caught him before he hit the ground. "C-Christophe?" She whimpered as she stared at the injury.

The shovel was going straight through him.

"Ch-Cheri..." He coughed blood and her grip tightened. Bebe fell down on his other side and made a noise of despair. "P-Pull it out for me."

"What? N-No," Karen stammered, "You're supposed to…to keep it in so…"

"Karen, I'm dying eizer way." He wiped the blood from his mouth with a shaking hand. "J-Just…pull it out. I…I want you to have it. I don't want to be…"

Kenny watched the connection that occurred when their eyes met and his insides ache.

"After you….After." Karen replied.

He nodded and coughed again, "Cigarette?"

Karen nodded and carefully reached into his pocket to extract a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. Carefully, Karen offered a cigarette and Mole opened his mouth. She placed it between his lips and used the lighter. He closed his eyes and relaxed in Karen and Bebe's arms.

"Second time I've died in someone's arms." He commented weakly. "And by two beautiful women. God is a hilarious beetch."

And then he fell silent.

Kenny, Damien and Pip watched as Bebe made a pained sound and Karen got up. She shifted the dead Frenchman and set her foot against his chest before yanking at the shovel. She struggled and they winced at the sound of shovel scraping against bone but the small undead girl pulled the tool completely out of the corpse and rolled him on his back.

Without another word, she used the shovel to hack off Christophe's head.

"Well, that was certainly emotional." Damien commented in a bored tone. Kenny was surprised that he had let such a moment happen. After all, they were on his time and the Anti-Christ never came off as a patient person. "But we have business to do."

Karen spun around, gripping the shovel tightly and glaring intently at the man from Hell, "No."

"No?"

"No," Karen replied defiantly, "I'm not letting you do this."

Damien chuckled. "My dear, you don't have a choice."

"Then kill me. I don't want to be a part of this."

Bebe stood up and shakily gripped Karen's arm. "Me too." She said. "This is…this is insane." She looked at Kenny and he felt himself wince, "This isn't going to get you what you want, Kenny. Do you really think Kyle wants you to do all of this? For him? Do you really think he'll love you after all of this?"

"Of course he will," Damien replied as Kenny let the words register in his mind, "Power is attractive and Mr. McCormick will have power."

That was a lie. Kenny knew it was. He was just a pawn in Damien's little game. This was the apocalypse and Damien was going to use Kenny to become that beacon of hope in the eyes of the survivors. And to get that, there was a pretty big chance that Kenny was going to get his skull bashed in.

What would he have then?

His best friend just died, his sister had just lost all respect for him and his best female friend hated him. The one person he'd do anything for was with someone else and probably hated him too since their last conversation. And that same person most definitely hated him now that there was a hoard of zombies staring in his direction, waiting for him to tell them where to go and who to eat.

And that's when it hit him.

Mole was the real hero.

And Karen and Bebe.

They had nothing and yet they actually did what was right. They weren't being pussies and thinking about nothing but themselves. They weren't warped and confused. They were looking at the big picture and if that meant their death, so be it.

He was selfish.

But he also had power.

"I'll wage your war," Kenny told Damien hoarsely, "But first, I need to find Kyle."

Damien studied Kenny as the blonde avoided eye contact with the undead women, staring at him in disappointment and disbelief. "Sounds reasonable," He allowed. "Go on. I'll find you in an hour."

Kenny nodded, silent and feeling disgusted with himself before running to the perfect little house with the white picket fence.

* * *

_So…uh…next chapter is the last chapter..maybe. Yes. REVIEWS PLEASE._


	24. Hunt, Smoke, and Blood

_Disclaimer – I do not own South Park_

* * *

It was a long and painful walk to Kyle's home. Kenny could've sworn he saw his parents among the crowds of fleeing civilians but he didn't bother to double check. If his father didn't blow his head off before, he'd probably do it now. And he'd deserve it.

He did kind of start the apocalypse after all.

Kenny frowned as the fence gate slapped back and forth thanks to the wind and momentum and the zombie briefly worried about Boitano. The small puddle of blood and patches of skin and hair about the yard confirmed Kenny's worries as he walked along the perfect, uncracked walkway but it wasn't for the dog.

He felt queasy as he made his way up the porch stairs and noticed that the door was cracked open. He didn't have to touch the knob but simply press on the door with his palm and it swung open into the silent house. A corpse lay on the floor a few feet before him but it was neither Kyle nor Stan. He stepped inside, quiet and keeping himself aware of his surroundings.

"Kyle?" He called out into the emptiness. "Stan?"

There was a creek deep into the house and Kenny tensed. "Guys?" Another creek and Kenny started becoming very unsure.

He froze when there was a click behind him, very close to his ear. "Don't move or I blow off your head."

The undead blonde relaxed, "Stan. Thank God." He let out.

"You really think God is going to help you out?"

"At this point? No. I don't think so." Kenny replied, "Where's Kyle?"

"Oh, don't you even fucking go there," Stan snapped.

"What? I can't ask where Kyle is?"

"No."

Kenny turned his head slightly and glance at Stan. The gun pointed at him was shaking and Stan looked tired and maybe even a bit aged. His eyes were red and puffy, as though he was both sleep deprived and finished with a bout of tears. "You don't know where Kyle is." Kenny said upon realization.

Stan's expression hardened. "And you do." He stated, pressing the gun into Kenny's head.

"Stan, why would I come here calling for you and Kyle if I have Kyle?" Kenny asked with a raised eyebrow.

They glared at each other for a moment before Stan lowered his gun. "Once we find Kyle, I'm going to kill you." He announced.

"Okay." Stan seemed to be a bit thrown off as Kenny brushed past him but soon fell in step with the zombie. "When'd you last see him?"

"This morning before this whole mess started," Stan replied. "I heard Boitano yelping outside and when I opened the door this zombie burst in and attacked me. Kyle got it over the head with a frying pan and ran out."

"Weird."

"Yeah."

"So," Kenny glanced at Stan, "Any clue as to where he might have gone?"

"I tried calling the Broflovski household but there was no answer." Stan replied. "I got a text from Ike before phones stopped getting reception, though and he said they were safe and that Kyle wasn't with them."

"Well, that doesn't help." Kenny commented.

"I'm so sorry that I broke his heart, causing him to cry and keep himself by the phone in the guestroom for days, before causing the apocalypse." Stan snapped, "Oh wait, that was _you_."

Kenny winced and made his way along the streets of South Park. The undead watched him and Stan as he walked by nonchalantly, ignoring the expectant and hopeful stares from his army.

His army.

That was hard to adjust to.

Stan reluctantly stayed close to Kenny, unaware of the blonde's control over the other undead residents of the town. Though it was apparent that Stan blamed Kenny for the cause of this unholy event, and Kenny didn't deny it.

They searched the town, calling for the redhead that they both cared deeply for. Kenny even ordered some zombies to spread the word that they needed to locate Kyle and he needed to be alive and unharmed. Stan gave Kenny a strange look then but Kenny ignored him and continued on with his search.

He was going to find Kyle, dammit.

And find him he did once the hour was up and a column of smoke burst from the earth before them. The smoke quickly spread and disappated, leaving Stan the cough and gasp for air, reminding Kenny that he wasn't dead and suffering from asthma. Thankfully the raven haired man had his inhaler with him and with its help, he was soon able to breathe normally again.

After Kenny looked Stan over to make sure he wasn't going to die on the spot, they glanced at the source of the smoke and the zombie didn't bother to suppress a growl as Damien gave him an innocent look. Behind him, Pip was carefully placing Kyle, tied up with rope made of smoke, on the ground near the tree they stood in front of.

"What are you doing with him?" Kenny snapped.

"Why, Mr. McCormick," Damien started in feigned surprise, "I saw that you weren't having any luck finding him so I thought I would help."

"Bullshit!"

Damien straightened, "And why do you think that?"

"Because you're a manipulator, Damien," Kenny replied, "You want to use him to use me."

"No! Of course not!"

"Then let me have him."

The Anti-Christ glared at the blonde, yanking Kyle to his feet. "I really don't see what's so special about him," Damien commented. "He's always so serious and I've heard he's a bore in bed." Pip snickered and Kenny growled again, baring his teeth in an animalistic fashion, "But you're right, McCormick. I am using him. You see, if I give you your little toy, then what can I use to keep you interested in my goals? You could quite possibly make the apocalypse go away and I can't let you do that."

He could end it?

He had a feeling but…

"Why did you give me so much power then?" Kenny asked.

"You're the only one in the world who's compatible with my plans," Damien replied. "You go and the plan is kaput."

Kenny thought about the situation. Maybe he could negotiate for Kyle's safety or convince Damien to give Kyle to Stan and lock them in a tower or something where they could both be safe from the world's quickly spreading disaster.

"What if-"

Too late.

Stan was already rushing the Anti-Christ, but before he got close, Pip leapt forward and kicked Stan in the stomach and whapped him hard enough in the back of the head to leave him unconscious. Kenny glanced at Damien, who did not look amused and Kyle was staring at Kenny with tears in his eyes.

Damien dragged the red head along with him as he approached Stan's limb body and the Anti-Christ nudged the body with his foot in disinterest. Kyle took that moment to elbow Damien in the stomach, causing Satan's son to lose concentration and the smoke trapping Kyle disappeared. The redhead stumbled to grab Stan's gun and quickly ran to Kenny, hiding behind the zombie.

"We have to help, Stan." Kyle stated. His voice was shaking and he was obviously worried and scared.

Kenny just wanted to hold him.

Instead, he grabbed Kyle and ran into an alley, ignoring the roar of anger behind them. They ran until they reached the serene sight of Stark's pond. Untouched by death and doom, the pond seemed to symbolize everything Kenny wanted back but couldn't…wouldn't have.

"Kyle," He turned and grabbed the redhead by the shoulders, squeezing lightly as though to profess the seriousness of the situation and that Kyle should listen to every word the zombie said, "Shoot me."

"What?"

"I need you to shoot me, Kyle." Kenny replied. He tried to be calm but his voice was shaking too. He was dead but he could still feel his heart breaking.

"No." Kyle replied. "No, Kenny, I'm not…I love you…I can't."

"You can," Kenny insisted. "You have to if you want to save Stan and everyone else." Kyle stared at him with wide eyes. "You heard Damien. He needs me to do this. If I'm dead, everything goes back. Remember when we were kids and I was a zombie?"

Kyle shook his head, "Kenny. This is different. You're not like that and the cause is different and…"

"Kill me and I can go talk to Satan. He'll fix everything and you can be happy."

"You'll come back?" Kyle asked.

"I doubt it."

"Then no," The redhead threw the gun to the ground and flung his arms around the blonde's neck, "I'm not letting you leave again, Kenny. I love Stan but…it would kill me to lose you again, Kenny."

Kenny hesitated before hugging back, "Please, Kyle. This is important. You have to."

"I did last time," The redhead sniffled, "Don't make me do it again."

"Gawd, you guys are such fags."

Kenny stiffened and Kyle tightened his grip on the blonde as they glanced in the direction of the voice. Relaxing considerably when Cartman glared at them, bloodied up with an evident gash on his leg, they parted from each other but stayed close. The brunette, holding his arm in an effort to stop the blood gushing from a cut, limped over to them and Kenny eyed the gash, noting that a chunk of flesh was missing and pushed Kyle safely behind him.

"Oh, whatever, Kinny," Cartman snapped but stopping, "Don't fucking act like you can protect him from everything."

"You were bit, weren't you?" Kyle asked meekly, peeking out from behind his blonde protector.

"Yeah, Kahl, I was bit and I'm going to turn into Kenny's bitch soon," Cartman sighed, "Gotta obey his po' ass, gay." He muttered.

"So…" Kenny thought for a moment, "You'll shoot me?"

"What?"

"You'll shoot me so I can talk to Satan and fix this?" Kenny asked again.

"Kenny!" Kyle scolded.

"If that means I might be able to continue with my life, yeah," Cartman chirped, "Plus, I get to kill you for starting this shit."

Kenny bit his tongue, deciding that he had to stay on Cartman's good side so it wouldn't be a good idea to point out that the brunette technically started it by working at the damn place that made him the monster he was. It wouldn't really get him anywhere if he pointed it out.

"No," Kyle nearly shouted, "No one is killing Kenny!"

"Well, that's a first," Kenny noted with a hint of amusement.

Cartman snickered and Kyle glared at them both before retrieving the gun and holding it tightly. "No one is going to kill you, Kenny. We can figure this out."

"Before or after Cartman decides to be a disobedient bitch and eats you?" Kenny asked.

Kyle was silent.

Kenny rubbed his temples and looked at the reason he took part in the apocalypse. Kyle was tired, wary, unsure, and scared. Kenny wanted him to be happy and taken care of from the start but his selfishness prevented that. He'd completely screwed the situation over and this was his only chance to fix it.

"Kyle…" Kenny started softly, "I'll come back." He promised.

It was a lie of course. There was a feeling deep in the pit of Kenny's stomach that said he wouldn't be coming back.

The blonde had often wondered why he could die and come back. It was as though his soul was like the reusable bags everyone used instead of paper or plastic. He figured he'd never find out the real reason he never stayed dead until this point. His soul was like a cat was the best example. Only instead of nine lives, it contained the lives of all of the people who were supposed to die during the apocalypse. He was going to save every one of those lives and his life limit would expire. He'd be stranded in Hell, forever dead.

He wasn't sure how this knowledge hit him. It was like someone opened had opened his skull and dropped the information in his head at that moment.

Maybe that was what had happened to push him into doing the right thing.

Kyle stared at Kenny, inspecting the blonde's blank eyes with an unfathomable amount of scrutiny. "You'll come back."

"Yeah," Kenny agreed, forcing a smile, "And we'll live happily ever after."

"I don't believe you."

"I know."

Kyle sighed and pressed the gun against Kenny's forehead, tears streaming from his eyes. "I love you." He said quietly.

"I love you too," Kenny whispered, closing his eyes.

Kyle pulled the trigger.

"See you soon."


	25. Epilogue

_Disclaimer – I do not own South Park_

* * *

"They look peaceful today."

"…..Yeah."

"I hope Kyle doesn't mind petunias. He seemed like a petunia person."

"Cheri, I think he wouldn't care less but appreciate the gesture."

"Yeah, you're right."

Karen McCormick knelt before two gravestones and distributed the bouquets she and Christophe the French mercenary who never gave his last name due to strict security protocol had purchased before continuing their Sunday stroll to South Park's neat and tidy cemetery.

Only a year had gone by and everything in South Park had seemed to fall back into place. No one forgot the horrifying events that occurred during the would-be apocalypse though.

Almost in an instant everything was the same albeit the horrifying screams of a young man with black hair, who was bursting into flames and getting dragged into Hell with a blonde man clinging to him and sobbing. After that strange experience, the clouds parted and the sky was blue and all the leaves were green, welcoming the sun to warm the small town like a baked potato. Most of the citizens stumbled around, unsure what had happened because the last thing they really remembered was being ravenously hungry.

Then they realized what had happened and called on their mayor to do some major damage control. Wendy Testaburger led a committee to find the cause of the almost apocalypse and didn't have to search far when Eric Cartman stepped up and spilled the beans on what he had been doing for the past few years as a career.

The building was burned, people were held responsible and Cartman, as usual, got out of doing any serious time.

His two best friends, after all, were dead and the emotional pain caused by watching Kyle Broflovski kill Kenny McCormick before turning the gun on himself was more enlightening than prison and community service could ever be.

He did seem to have grown a heart though because he convinced the town that Kenny was simply misguided and didn't know what was happening. He explained Kenny's situation and questioned everyone looking to do horrible things to the blonde's corpse if they would do the same thing if they were in his place. Karen, Bebe, and the Mole backed him up, though the Mole was not public about it because he was never really public about anything, and eventually the townspeople relented.

The joint funeral was beautiful.

Karen and the Mole glanced over at the grave being dug next to Kyle's and the young woman frowned, stepping to the edge. "Excuse me?" She called the digger, who stopped and looked at her with a tired expression, "Who's getting buried here?"

"Some kid," The guy replied, "Committed suicide last night and requested the plot next to Broflovski in his will."

"That's horrible."

"Yeah," The digger agreed, "They found him in the morgue he worked at. Died from formaldehyde poisoning or something. He was replacing his blood and embalming himself alive, I think."

Karen gasped and Mole pulled away, giving the digger a good glare, "Come, cheri, we still need to get me a new shovel."

Karen nodded, blinking away her tears. "I guess we'll bring three bouquets next week."

"Stan would appreciate that."

The End.

* * *

_There are probably so many unanswered questions but you know what? That's life. A series of unanswered questions and you know what this is? An excuse to get out of trying to remember what questions were unanswered._

_I just want this story to be over. _

_If there's something painfully mind-boggling, Ask and I shall tell._

_THANKS TO – _

_The Brat Prince, the Zoshi, Cup, Harry Lvr, Hot Monkey Brain, RangerInBlack, yukidaru, super manako sohma, dreamschemer, Doomed-Orange-Parka, A Muse Mental, lonelycomet, remeberthename, Don'tKillKenny, Amethyst DragonRider, let's point out the obvious, Miki~, tigersmt.334 X Assasin's core, AuralRaven, simply anonymous, shannello, Anotheryaoifreak, Silly Moo Cow, trulybliss08_

_SUPER THANKS TO – _

_Speedy, Inasaku, and KyleisGod_

_See you next story!_


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